"Now what?" said the King.
"Hoots, your Majesty! Glorious news! The Princess of the Outer Isles
waits without--I mean wi'oot!"
The King sprang from his couch.
"A messenger from the Princess at last!"
"Nay, sire, the Princess herself--that is to say," said the Lord
Chamberlain, who was an old man and had found it hard to accustom
himself to the new tongue at his age, "her ain sel'! And believe me, or
rather, mind ah'm telling ye," went on the honest man, joyfully, for he
had been deeply exercised by his monarch's troubles, "her Highness is
the easiest thing to look at these eyes hae ever seen. And you can say
I said it!"
"She is beautiful?"
"Your majesty, she is, in the best and deepest sense of the word, a
pippin!"
King Merolchazzar was groping wildly for his robes.
"Tell her to wait!" he cried. "Go and amuse her. Ask her riddles! Tell
her anecdotes! Don't let her go. Say I'll be down in a moment. Where in
the name of Zoroaster is our imperial mesh-knit underwear?"
* * * * *
A fair and pleasing sight was the Princess of the Outer Isles as she
stood on the terrace in the clear sunshine of the summer morning,
looking over the King's gardens.
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