passed through, Felice heard a peasant say, "How strange that a prince
should marry a farm-girl."

Then the hot color came into her face, for Felice was very proud, and did
not like to be thought inferior to her husband. When they were alone
together she related what she had heard. The Golden Archer looked
puzzled, for he thought that she loved him too well to care for such
trifles. "We are one because we are dear to each other," he cried, and
took her in his arms and cherished her.

Next day came the Mistress of the Inn to set the room in order, and
as she bustled about she said, "From what kingdom comes your husband,
the Prince?"

"My husband is not a prince," said Felice.

"He talks and acts like one," remarked the Hostess. "What is he then?"

The little Felice felt her cheeks burn. She could not say that her
husband had been a weather vane, and was now a man, so she replied, "He
occupied a very high position of trust."

"Yet he seems to know as little of real life as a prince," mused the
Hostess. "He has asked me strange questions about quite ordinary things."

Felice grew pinker than ever; and when the Golden Archer came into the
room he found her in tears.

"Heart's dearest, why do you weep?" he said.