On the green lawn and against the sunny blue of the sky the colors of their costumes made a gorgeous display. There were blues both light and dark, of lapis and of turquoise; purple, magenta and green; tawny orange, tan, buff and fusk; mustard ocher, the yellow of daffodil, rose pink, scarlet and pomegranate red. There were shirts and pleated bargoons of fine white silk, or Egyptian lawn; the hats were brave with many brims, sweeps, tiers, and plumes. Lady Desdea wore a relatively sedate gown of heather gray embroidered with red and black flowerets. As the royal party arrived on the lawn she took occasion to confer with Queen Sollace, who issued instructions to which Lady Desdea gave a bow of compliant understanding. She turned to speak with Madouc, only to discover that Madouc was nowhere to be seen.

Lady Desdea exclaimed in vexation and called to Devonet. "Where is the Princess Madouc? A moment ago she stood by my side; she has darted away, like a weasel through the hedge!"

Devonet replied in a voice of whimsical and confidential scorn: "No doubt she trotted off to the privy."

"Ah! Always at the most awkward time!"

Devonet went on: "She said she had severely wanted to go for the last two hours."

Lady Desdea frowned. Devonet's manner was altogether too flippant, too knowing and too familiar. She said crisply: "All else aside, Princess Madouc is a cherished member of the royal family. We must be careful to avoid disrespect in our references!"

"I was only telling you the facts," said Devonet lamely.

"Just so. Still, I hope that you will take my remarks to heart." Lady Desdea swept away and went to post herself where she could intercept Madouc immediately upon her return from within the palace.

Minutes passed. Lady Desdea became impatient: where was the perverse little brat? What could she be up to?

King Casmir and Queen Sollace settled themselves at the royal table; the High Seneschal nodded to the steward-in-chief who clapped his hands together. Those guests still standing about the lawn seated themselves wherever convenient, in the company of relatives or friends, or with other persons whom they found congenial. Stewards in pairs stalked here and there with platters and trenchers, one to carry, another to serve. Contrary to the intentions of Queen Sollace, Prince Bittern escorted the young Duchess Clavessa Montfoy of Sansiverre- this a small kingdom immediately north of Aquitaine. The duchess wore a striking gown of scarlet embroidered with black, purple and green peacocks, which suited her to remarkable advantage. She was tall, vivacious of movement, with luxuriant black hair, flashing black eyes, and an enthusiastic manner which stimulated Prince Bittern's most eager volubility.

Queen Sollace watched with cold disfavor. She had planned that Bittern should sit with Princess Madouc, that he might make her better acquaintance. Evidently this was not to be, and Sollace gave Lady Desdea a look of moist reproach, prompting Lady Desdea to peer even more earnestly toward the structure of Sarris. Why did the princess tarry so long?

In point of fact, Madouc had tarried not an instant. As soon as Lady Desdea had turned her back, she slipped around the outskirts of the company to where Dhrun and Shimrod stood, beside the most remote of the oak trees. Madouc's arrival took them by surprise. "You come up on us with neither ceremony nor premonition," said Dhrun. "Luckily we were exchanging no secrets."

"I took care to use my best stealth," said Madouc. "I am free at last, until someone searches me out." She went to stand behind the bole of the oak. "Even now I am not safe; Lady Desdea can see through stone walls."

"In that case, before you are dragged away, I will introduce my friend, Master Shimrod," said Dhrun. "He too can see through stone walls, and whenever he likes."

Madouc performed a prim curtsey, and Shimrod bowed. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I do not meet princesses every day!"

Madouc gave a rueful grimace. "I had rather be a magician, and see through walls. Is it difficult to learn?"

"Quite difficult, but much depends upon the student. I have tried to teach Dhrun a sleight or two, but with only fair success."

"My mind is not flexible," said Dhrun. "I cannot think so many thoughts at once."

"That is the way of it, more often than not, and luckily so," said Shimrod. "Otherwise, everyone would be a magician and the world would be an extraordinary place."

Madouc considered. "Sometimes I think as many as seventeen thoughts all together."

"That is good thinking!" said Shimrod. "Murgen occasionally manages thirteen, or even fourteen, but afterward collapses into a stupor."

Madouc looked at him sadly. "You are laughing at me."

"I would never dare laugh at a royal princess! That would be impertinence!"

"No one would care. I am a royal princess only because Casmir makes the pretense-and only so that he can marry me to Prince Bittern, or someone similar."

Dhrun looked off across the lawn. "Bittern is fickle; he would make a poor match. Already he has turned his attention elsewhere. For the moment you are safe."

"I must issue a warning," said Shimrod. "Casmir is aware that you are a changeling, but he knows nothing of Suldrun's first-born son. Should he gain so much as an inkling, Dhrun would be in great danger."

Madouc peered around the tree to where King Casmir sat with Sir Ccnac of Knook Keep and Sir Lodweg of Cockaigne. "My mother cited the same warning. You need not worry; the secret is safe."

"How did you happen to meet your mother?"

"I chanced to be in the forest, and there I met a wefkin named Zocco who taught me how to call my mother, and I did so."

"She came?"

"Instantly. At first she seemed a bit cross, but in the end she decided to be proud of me. She is beautiful, if somewhat airy in her manners. Nor can I help but think her capricious, giving away her lovely baby as if it were a sausage-especially when that lovely baby was I. When I brought the subject up, she seemed more amused than otherwise, and claimed that I was subject to tantrums, which made the change only sensible."

"But you have outgrown these tantrums?"

"Oh yes, quite."

Shimrod mused upon the subject. "A fairy's thoughts can never be guessed. I have tried and failed; there is better hope of catching up quicksilver in your fingers."

Madouc said wisely: "Magicians must consort often with fairies, since both are adepts in magic."

Shimrod gave his head a smiling shake. "We use different magics. When first I wandered the world, such creatures were new to me. I enjoyed their frolics and pretty fancies. Now I am more settled, and I no longer try to fathom fairy logic. Someday, if you like, I will explain the difference between fairy magic and sandestin magic, which is used by most magicians."

"Hm," said Madouc. "I thought that magic was magic, and that was all there was to it!"

"Not so. Sometimes simple magic seems hard and hard magic seems simple. It is all very complicated. For instance-by your feet I see three dandelions. Pluck their pretty little blossoms."

Madouc bent and picked the three yellow blooms.

"Hold them between your two hands," said Shimrod. "Now, bring your hands to your face and kiss both thumbs together."

Madouc raised her hands to her face and kissed her thumbs. Instantly the soft blossoms became hard and heavy inside her hands. "Oh! They have changed! May I look?"

"You may look."

Madouc, opening her hands, discovered three heavy gold coins in place of the dandelion blossoms. "That is a fine trick! Can I do it myself?"

Shimrod shook his head. "Not now. It is not so easy as it seems. But you may keep the gold."

"Thank you," said Madouc. She inspected the coins some what dubiously. "If I should try to spend the coins, would they become flowers again?"