Prince Florimond was in green crayon with a purple cap. Prince Veritain had an orange jerkin and his cap was scarlet. And little Prince Amor was all in blue, with a golden dagger stuck in his belt. Chrome-coloured ringlets fell about the shoulders of the two elder brothers. And the youngest, who was bareheaded, had a yellow circlet of short curls, rather like a crown.
As for the Unicorn, he was silvery white from mane to tail — except for his eyes, which were the colour of forget-me-nots; and his horn, which was striped with red and black.
Jane and Michael gazed down at the page and smiled at the pictured children. And the three Princes smiled up from the book and seemed to lean forward from the forest.
Michael sighed. "If only I had a dagger like Amor's. It would just be about my size."
A breeze rustled the trees of the Park and the coloured drawing seemed to tremble.
"I never can choose between Florimond and Veritain," Jane murmured. "They are both so beautiful."
The fountain gave a laughing ripple and an echo of laughter seemed to come from the book.
"I'll lend it to you!" said the youngest Prince, whipping the dagger from his belt.
"Why not choose us both?" cried the two eldest, stepping forward on to the lawn.
Jane and Michael caught their breath. What had happened? Had the painted forest come to the Park? Or was it that the Rose Garden had gone into the picture? Are we there? Are they here? Which is which? they asked themselves, and could not give an answer.
"Don't you know us, Jane?" asked Florimond, smiling.
"Yes, of course!" she gasped. "But — how did you get here?"
"Didn't you see?" asked Veritain. "You smiled at us and we smiled at you. And the picture looked so shiny and bright — you and Michael and the painted roses—"
"So we jumped right into the story!" Amor concluded gaily.
"Out of it, you mean!" cried Michael. "We're not a story. We're real people. It's you who are the pictures!"
The Princes tossed their curls and laughed.
"Touch me!" said Florimond.
"Take my hand!" urged Veritain.
"Here's my dagger!" cried Amor.
Michael took the golden weapon. It was sharp and solid and warm from Amor's body.
"Who's real now?" Amor demanded. "Tuck it into your belt," he said, smiling at Michael's astonished face.
"You see — I was right!" said Florimond, as Jane put one hand on his sleeve and the other in Veritain's outstretched palm. She felt the warmth of both and nodded.
"But—" she protested. "How can it be? You are in Once Upon a Time. And that is long ago."
"Oh, no!" said Veritain. "It's always. Do you remember your great-great-great-great-grandmother?"
"Of course not. I am much too young."
"We do," said Florimond, with a smile. "And what about your great-great-great-great-grand-daughter? Will you ever see her, do you think?"
Jane shook her head a little wistfully. That charming far-away little girl — how much she would like to know her!
"We shall," said Veritain confidently.
"But how? You're the children in the story!"
Florimond laughed and shook his head.
"You are the children in the story! We've read about you so often, Jane, and looked at the picture and longed to know you. So today — when the book fell open — we simply walked in. We come once into everyone's story — the grand-parents and the grandchildren are all the same to us. But most people take no notice." He sighed. "Or if they do, they forget very quickly. Only a few remember."
Jane's hand tightened on his sleeve. She felt she would never forget him, not if she lived to be forty.
"Oh, don't waste time explaining," begged Amor. "We want to explore the picture!"
"We'll lead the way!" cried Michael eagerly, as he seized Amor by the hand. He hardly cared whether he was a real boy or a boy in a story, so long as the golden dagger lay snugly in his belt.
"We'll follow!" cried Veritain, running behind them.
Florimond gave a piercing whistle and tugged at the rein on his arm.
Immediately, as if from nowhere, the Unicorn appeared at his side. Florimond patted the silky neck and, moving off beside Jane, he glanced about him eagerly.
"Look, brothers — over there is the Lake! Do you see Neleus with his Dolphin? And that must be Number Seventeen. We never could see it clearly before," he explained to Jane and Michael. "In the picture it's hidden behind the trees."
"H'm — a very small house," said Amor, gazing.
"But it's solid and friendly," said Veritain kindly.
"And the grounds are very extensive." Florimond made a sweeping gesture and bent to sniff at a rose.
"Now, now! Wot are you doin'!" The Park Keeper, roused from his Forty Winks, sat up and rubbed his eyes.
"Observe the rules," he grumbled, stretching. "No pickin' of flowers allowed."
"I wasn't picking. I was just smelling. Though, of course," said Florimond politely, "I would like to have a rose from Jane's garden. As a souvenir, you know!"
"Jane's garden?" The Park Keeper stared. "This is no garden. It's a Public Park. And it don't belong to Jane. Souveneer, indeed!" he spluttered. "'Oo do you think you are?"
"Oh, I don't think — I know!" the Prince replied. "I am Florimond, the King's eldest son. These are my brothers — don't you remember? And our task is to fight the Dragon."
The Park Keeper's eyes nearly dropped from his head.
"King's eldest—? Dragon? No dragons allowed in the Public Parks. And no horses, neither!" he added, as his eyes fell on the silvery hooves that were lightly pawing the lawn.
A peal of laughter burst from Amor.
Jane and Michael giggled.
"That's not a horse," Veritain protested. "Can't you see? He's a Unicorn!"
"Now, now!" The Park Keeper heaved to his feet. "I ought to know a Norse when I see one and that's a Norse or I'm a — Lumme!"
The milk-white creature raised its head.
"It is! It is a Unycorn! 'Orn and all — just like a picture, I never saw such a thing before — at least—" The Park Keeper wrinkled up his brow as though he were trying to remember something. "No, no," he murmured, "I couldn't have! Not even when I was a boy. A Unycorn! I must make a report. Winkle, where are you? 'Ere, you boys—" He turned to the astonished Princes. "You 'old 'im quiet till I get back. Don't let 'im go woteveryou do!"
And off he went, leaping over the flower-beds. "'Orn and all!" they heard him shouting, as he darted among the laurels.
The Princes, their eyes round with surprise, gazed after his disappearing figure.
"Your gardener seems very excitable," said Florimond to Jane.
She was just about to explain that the Park Keeper was not their gardener, when a shrill voice interrupted her.
"Wait! Wait! Not so fast! My arms are nearly out of their sockets. Oh, what shall I do? There goes my scarf!"
Into the Rose Garden plunged Miss Lark, with the two dogs straining at their leads. Her hat was wobbling dangerously and her hair hung in wisps around her face.
"Oh, goodness! There they go again! Andrew! Willoughby! Do come back!"
But the dogs merely laughed. They tugged the leathers from her hands and, bounding gaily towards the Princes, they leapt up at Amor.
"Oh, Jane! Oh, Michael!" Miss Lark panted. "Do help me, please, to catch the dogs. I don't like them talking to strangers. Look at that queer boy kissing Andrew! He may have a cold and the dogs will catch it. Who are these children? What very odd clothes! And their hair is much too long!"
"This is Florimond," said Jane politely.