It took the colour of true romance from its unlikelihood.

Peter turned on the light, and drawing paper to him, began to write.
"Lovely Lady," the letter began, and as if the words had been an incantation, the room was full and palpitating with his stored-up dreams.

They came waking and crowding to fill out the measure of his unconsummated passion, and they had all one face and one likeness.

Late, late he was still going on with it....
"And so," he wrote, "I have come to the part of the story that was not in the picture, that I never knew.

The dragon is slain and the knight has just begun to understand that the Princess for whom it was done is still a Princess; and though you have fought and bled for them, princesses must be approached humbly.