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She waded a little deeper, feeling the soft, secret mud squishing up between her toes like velvet as she moved towards the center of the pond, where the water lilies bloomed. There, on the largest lily pad, was the frog. She gathered her skirts up more closely with one hand and stretched out her other hand towards it, expecting it to leap into the water. It didn't. Resting serenely, its sides moving slightly as it breathed, it seemed un-alarmed by her approach. She turned her palm upward, and watched as the frog hopped daintily onto it.
The frog was a slight, cool, moist weight as she lifted it. Subtle, elegant patterns, dark green against green, marked its back, while its belly gleamed palely. She admired the precision of its tiny toes splayed against the pink skin of her palm.
"You wouldn't give me ugly, heavy jewelry if you were a prince, would you? And you wouldn't have me wear stiff, scratchy brocade and shoes that made my feet hurt, and expect me to stay inside and never walk bareheaded in the rain."
"Reeeeep."
"I didn't think so." Her skirts dropped into the water, green and brown shading the formerly pristine fabric. She leaned forward, and anyone watching would have thought she fell, though there was only a small splash. The water's surface trembled, then stilled.
The servants found her dress, wadded and muddy on the bottom of the pond, when they went to look for her, but they never found any other trace of the princess. In the end, one of her sisters married the prince who'd come to woo and wed, and the prince was well pleased to have a wife who gave him little trouble, and three sons, and to have another small demesne to add to his lands.
And ever after, those who passed on their way to or from grander places would mark that small pond, and its water lilies, and the frogs which sang there with such joy.