She packed all her mourning clothes into empty cupboards in the attic.
She then looked for the coloured dresses and gowns which she had worn when she was younger.
Most of them, she decided, were quite unwearable now.
Some of them, however, were quite suitable for her role as a young girl who lived in the country.
‘Being a foreigner the Prince is very sure to think that I am a country bumpkin with no brains,’ Meta told herself. ‘So I might as well look the part!’
She was in fact now wearing a very simple gown of a soft white material with just small touches of green in it.
It reminded Meta of the trees outside and she thought to herself it was very appropriate for a spring day when the daffodils were like splashes of gold in the Park.
She was picking some flowers to arrange them as s
