Of course. His son persuades him to set the nightingale free of its cage, and after he does, it comes back on its own and sits in the window to sing for the little prince, and does the same every day until he can go to play in the woods again.

[She presses one last kiss to the top of his head, squirming pleasantly at the nuzzling before draping her arms around him.]

The bird did not resent the prince for the time it spent in a cage. Not even a little bit.