Форд Мэдокс Форд
The Feather
‘The writing says “his” hair; but it seems to act just as well with “her” hair – that is, my hair. What fun I shall have now. I think I’ll try it on at once on the King. But then, it might frighten him. No, I’ll wait, and try it on Treblo; and that reminds me I think that they’ve had enough of it all to themselves now. I’ll go and see if I can do anything for them.’ So she locked the feather up in one of the drawers, and then, putting on her shoes, went downstairs.
Now it happened that just as she had almost reached the bottom step her heel came out of her shoe, and as she stopped to put it firmly on again she heard the voice of the stranger saying:
‘By the bye, mother, who was that girl who opened the door to me?’
‘Oh! that’s Ernalie,’ answered the Queen’s voice.
(It seemed as if the shoe took some time to get on again.)
‘So she told me; but who is Ernalie?’ he asked again.
‘Oh! you’d better get her to tell you that too when she comes down. Well, what do you think of her?’
‘Oh, she’s – she’s just lovely,’ answered he.
(‘Listeners never hear any good of themselves,’ thought the Princess. However, the shoe had come on just at that moment, and she entered the room.)
‘Speak of the – ahem!’ the King was just saying, when the Prince interrupted him.
‘“Speak of angels, and you hear the rustling of their wings,” you mean,’ he said.
‘Thank you for the compliment, if it was meant for me,’ said the Princess.
‘Oh! don’t mention it – it’s nothing when you’re used to it,’ said Treblo, who, to tell the truth, seemed rather confused.
‘And are you used to calling young ladies angels?’ said his father sharply. ‘I suppose it’s some of the foreign manners you’ve learnt.’
‘Suppose we change the subject,’ retorted his son, and the subject was changed.
Ernalie retired again. She wanted to look after the dinner, so that it might not be late, and so nothing else in particular happened, for Treblo went round the farm with his father, and Araminta went into the kitchen to help Ernalie with the dinner. When the goose was turning on the spit, and the apple-tart had been put into the oven, the Princess had time to ask some questions about Treblo, and the Queen told her that he had been sent out of the way by Mumkie, in order that he might not attempt to put his father on the throne again; but after seven years he had come back safe, having had all sorts of adventures, and he now felt quite confident that he would be able to restore his father, for he was very popular with the army that had just returned from the war, and as to the people of the town, they cared very little who was king – in fact, they rather preferred Abbonamento to Mumkie. So Araminta was quite cheerful over it, for she much preferred living in a palace to living in a cottage.
Things went merrily through the day, and at dinner-time they drank the health of the King and Queen of the country, and altogether they seemed very happy. After dinner the King composed himself for his afternoon nap, and the Queen took down a volume of sermons and began to read. Ernalie went out to milk the cows and take the eggs from the hens’ nests. As to the Prince, he said he was going out to take a walk.
Before going out the Princess slipped up to her room, and took the eagle’s feather from the drawer where she had locked it up. She intended to try if she were invisible to the cows and poultry. So she put it in her sunbonnet and went out. It really seemed as if it was quite correct about the feather, for as soon as she got out of the door a bee ran right against her, and then a sparrow that was chirping on a rail allowed her to catch hold of it before it took any notice of her approach. However, she let it go, and it flew away, looking very astonished indeed, as you may imagine.
She reached the pasture, and opened the gate, calling to the cows:
‘Daisy, Daisy; come, Lightfoot; Cherry, come!’
The cows looked up from the ground, and came towards the gate, looking very astonished indeed; but when they got quite close and saw no one they stopped, and however much she called them they refused to move.
‘This will never do,’ she said; ‘I must really let them see me, or they won’t come.’
So she took the feather from her bonnet, and called again. This time the cows seemed quite ready to come, and they trotted along to the gate and crowded round her to be stroked. So she shut the gate again and told the cows to go on – for they understood her quite well – and then she went on after them. When they got to the dairy she milked them one after the other as they came in their regular order to the stool. She was milking the last one – Cherry, the best of them all – and she leaned her face against its side, and listened to the ‘thud, thud,’ of the milk as it streamed into the pail with a foam like the sea in a rage. She was in fact almost lulled to sleep by it, when she was startled by a voice behind her. It was so sudden that she almost upset the milk-pail in her fright.
‘It seems to be easy work milking,’ said the voice, and she looked round and saw it was the Prince, who had come quietly up behind, and was leaning over the fence at her back, looking on lazily at her.
‘Oh! how you startled me, Prince,’ she said.
‘Did I?’ he answered. ‘I am very sorry for that; but you needn’t call me Prince yet. I’m not a Prince, you see, and then you’re the adopted daughter of my parents, so you ought to call me your brother.’
‘Oh, really!’ said she. ‘However, you soon will be a Prince, and then I shan’t be able to call you brother, shall I?’
‘Why not?’
‘Because you will be a Prince, and I am only a dairymaid.’
‘But you’re a Princess, aren’t you?’ he asked.
‘I was a Princess once,’ she said, with a sigh; ‘but – ’
‘You shall be again,’ he said.
‘But how do you know?’ she asked.
‘I know – oh, well, let’s change the subject. As I said before, it seems to be easy work milking. You might let me try?’
But she said:
‘It wouldn’t be any good. Cherry wouldn’t let any one but me touch her. Besides, I’ve just done, and I’m going to carry the pails to the house.’
‘Let me carry them for you?’ he said quickly.
‘Oh, thanks; if you’ll take two, I’ll take the other two, and thus we shall do it all in one journey,’ she answered.
So he did as he was told, and the pails were put safely in the house.
‘Now I must go and get the eggs,’ she said.
‘Can I be of any use?’ asked the Prince.
But she answered:
‘Oh no, there’s nothing for you to do, thanks.’
But he went with her all the same. I suppose he thought he might be of some use. So she let him hold the basket for her, and the eggs were also put safely in the house. Just, however, as he had put them down, a shrill whistle sounded twice from behind the garden hedge, and the Prince said:
‘Oh, that’s a friend of mine. You must excuse me for a few moments,’ and he went towards the hedge.
‘I wonder who his friend is,’ she said to herself. ‘I think I’ll put the feather on again and go after them. It would be a good way of trying my feather on men.’
So she took the feather out of her pocket again, and put it in her bonnet, and then ran after him. He had got over the fence some time before she reached it, but he was still in sight on the other side, and with him his friend was walking. He seemed to be a soldier, so far as she knew. They were talking very earnestly; but, from where she was, she was not able to hear what they said. So she too got over the fence, and went towards them; but she reached them rather too late to hear anything much that they did say. What she did hear was this, from the soldier:
‘Then you will come to-night at half-past twelve?’
‘Yes,’ answered the Prince.
‘We’ll have everything ready, and it will be easily done. If I were you I wouldn’t tell the King or Queen, it would only make them nervous, and we’re sure to succeed.’
‘Very well,’ said Treblo; ‘at half-past twelve.’
(‘Half-past twelve,’ thought the Princess; ‘what on earth is he going to do at that time of night? It sounds funny. I think I’ll go with him to look after him.’ For, you see, Ernalie was rather inquisitive, as you may have found out by this time.)
So the soldier went one way, and Treblo went back to the house whistling ‘When the king shall enjoy his own again.’
But the Princess ran on in front of him and reached the house first, so that by the time he was there she had taken the feather out of her bonnet and was quite visible again.
He came in quite naturally, as if nothing had happened, and the rest of the day went off quietly enough.
They went very early to bed at the farm, and the house was quiet by half-past eight.
Just before they went to bed Ernalie asked the Prince:
‘Do you like walking at night much?’
‘It depends upon the night very much,’ he answered.
‘Such a night as this, for instance,’ said she.
‘Oh yes – “a moonlight night for a ramble,” don’t you know?’ he said, laughing.
‘About half-past twelve, I suppose.’
The Prince looked astonished and shocked.
‘Half-past twelve!’ he said, with his eyes wide open; ‘why, I’m never out after eight. My mother says the night air’s not good for me.’
‘Oh, is that it?’ said the Princess. ‘However, I’m tired; good-night.’ And she went to her room and lay down on her bed with all her clothes on. It was rather hard work keeping awake for such a time, but at last she heard the kitchen clock strike twelve, and she knew it was twenty past. So she got up as quietly as possible and put on the feather, for, you see, she didn’t want any one to see her. It seemed very ghostly getting up so late at night, and although she stepped very lightly, the stairs creaked loudly. She went into the sitting-room and sat on a chair waiting for the Prince to come down. She had to wait close on half an hour; for, you see, the Prince had heard the clock strike too, but didn’t know it was twenty minutes slow. However, at last he came downstairs holding the candle in his hand. He hadn’t put his boots on for fear of waking any one, and so he, too, sat down on a chair to put them on. This was rather unpleasant for the Princess, for of course she had to keep as quiet as a mouse for fear of making him suspicious; for, you see, it was so quiet that the least breath she took could be heard. At last the putting on of his boots was finished, and he stood up, saying to himself out loud, ‘Now, where’s my hat?’ and then he looked straight at the Princess and said, ‘Ah, there it is,’ and he began to walk towards her.
‘What can he want?’ thought the Princess; and then she looked down at the chair – for, you see, she could see right through herself – and she discovered she was sitting on his hat. By this time he was quite close to her and bending down to pick his hat up, so she jumped sideways off the chair as fast as she could; but even then, as he put his hand out, he caught hold of hers, which had not time to get out of the way. As soon as his hand closed on it, however, he let go as if it had stung him.
‘Good gracious! what is that?’ he said in astonishment. And he did look so funny that she had hard work to keep from laughing at him. However, he calmed down in a minute, and again tried to take up his hat. This time you may be sure that the Princess’s hand was no longer there, for she had taken herself and it over to the other side of the table. So he took up the hat and looked at it.
‘Looks as if it had been sat on,’ he muttered. ‘Just like ’em; people always do sit on my hat if they can.’ However, he pushed it out straight again and looked at his boots to see if the laces were quite tight; and then he blew the light out, seeming, by the noise he was making, to be trying to get out of the door. When she heard him in the passage she thought it was about time to follow him. So she tried to do it, making as little noise as possible; but although she did try very hard she did not succeed very well, for she fell right over a chair and made noise enough to be heard all over the house.
‘What on earth’s that?’ she heard the Prince ask, and then he lit a match to look. But he didn’t see anything, and the light allowed the Princess to get quite close to him without upsetting anything more, and he opened the door, letting the moonlight shine in clear and white. While he was standing at the door she managed to slip past him into the open air, and there she waited for him. He wasn’t very long coming, and then she followed him down the garden, keeping to the grassy edge, and not walking on the path for fear of the noise that her feet would make on the gravel. They reached the field and then the road, and the Prince was joined by the other man whom the Princess had seen before. This man – whom, by the bye, the Prince called Ablot – was dressed in complete armour, and he carried another suit, which the Prince proceeded to put on.
(‘This begins to look exciting,’ thought Ernalie. ‘Perhaps he’s a highwayman, or a footpad – anyhow, I mean to keep up with them.’)
So she walked on faster, for she had fallen a little behind. When she got up with them she heard the Prince say:
‘Well, we’ll surround the Palace, take Mumkie prisoner, and turn him into the market-gardener; and then we’ll proclaim it to the rest of the citizens that my father and mother are King and Queen once more, and if they won’t give in – so much the worse for them. The soldiers are all on my side.’
The other answered:
‘Oh, but they’ll give in without the soldiers. They’re not at all fond of Mumkie. He has made himself very unpopular of late. You see, he put a farthing on the income tax, and he’s raised the price of everything that begins with “S,” like “sausages” and “sealing-wax” and “soap” and “sewing-machines.” Now your father only raised the price of things that begin with “Z,” and there aren’t many “Z’s,” you know; there’s “zebras” and “zeal,” and you can’t make much out of selling zeal.’
(‘Ah, that’s what you’re up to!’ thought the Princess. ‘We ought to have some fun then.’)
However, they were walking too fast for her to think much. All she could do was to keep up, and that she did to the best of her power, until at last they reached the middle of the town, where the King’s Palace stood. Here they halted to take counsel.
‘You wait here while I go and fetch the men,’ said Ablot, and as the Prince made no objection, he went and left him standing in the moonlit square. As Ablot seemed gone rather a long time, the Princess thought she would have a little fun, and going close to the Prince she whispered in his ear:
‘Does your mother know you’re out?’
The Prince turned round once or twice, as if to assure himself that there was no one hiding behind his back; but as he could see no one, he simply said:
‘I beg your pardon.’
‘That’s very good of you; but I thought you were never allowed out after half-past eight o’clock. I heard you tell Ernalie so this evening. I’m afraid you told a fib.’
The Prince looked very astonished.
‘Who or what are you?’ he asked.
‘Never you mind. I’ve a good mind not to let you succeed this evening, because you deceive not only your old mother who is asleep at home, but you have also told a fib to that innocent girl, of whom I’m very fond.’ (‘That’s quite true,’ thought the Princess. ‘I’m very fond of myself.’ And so she was.)
The Prince looked astonished.
‘How on earth could you know that?’ he said.
‘I heard it, I tell you.’
‘But there was no one in the room except the Princess and myself.’
‘All the same, I heard every word you said, and, what’s more, I shall hear every word you ever say to her,’ answered the Princess.
‘Well, then, you’ll be a great nuisance,’ said the Prince angrily.
‘Very well, I’ll tell the Princess all that you say, and I’ve a good mind not to let you succeed, as I’ve said before.’
‘Then you’ll do the Princess a great deal of harm if you do.’
‘Why?’
‘Because she’s – she’s – ’ he began.
‘She’s what?’ asked the voice.
‘Oh, well, never mind.’
‘But I do mind,’ said the voice.
‘“She’s all that fancy painted!” if you want to know so much,’ said the Prince.
‘But I don’t see how that’ll make any difference to her in case you should succeed,’ said the voice.
‘You’re uncommonly dull if you don’t see it,’ said the Prince, who was beginning to feel bad-tempered over being cross-questioned thus.
‘Don’t be rude, or you shan’t succeed,’ said the voice.
‘If I don’t succeed the Princess will never become Queen of the kingdom.’
‘How can she become Queen of the kingdom? – it would have to be a queendom. And I don’t see, if you do succeed, how she is to become Queen!’
‘As I’ve said before,’ said the Prince, ‘you’re excessively dull if you don’t see.’
‘I shall tell her what you said.’
‘Oh, do anything you like, only leave me alone, do,’ said the Prince, who by this time was quite in a temper.
So she let him alone, and made no answer when he wanted her to talk again. However, in a few minutes Ablot came into the square, followed by a large number of men, whom she heard him command to surround the Palace, which they accordingly did; and then, choosing five men, he and the Prince entered the Palace, Ernalie following them, for she didn’t know exactly what else to do. The first of the Palace guards they came to was fast asleep, and they did not molest him; but the second one was awake, and so was the third one. These two made some resistance, but they were soon knocked down and bound; but that was not much good, for they made such a noise that they would soon have brought the household about their ears, only it happened to be Saturday and all the servants were having a half holiday, and the only effect of the shouting was to bring King Mumkie out on to the landing. He had been sitting up to let the servants in when they came home, and he was in rather a bad temper.
‘What the deuce are you making such a noise for?’ he shouted to the guards.
But as the guards had been gagged by this time, they could only gurgle hopelessly.
‘Why don’t you answer?’ roared the King. But the guards made no reply, and the King came running down to see what was the matter. He was holding a candlestick above his head, and the light that fell on his face showed that he was in a very great rage indeed. When he saw the Prince in the hall he stopped, and said:
‘What do you want making this unearthly row at this time of night? Every one’s in bed, and I shall catch my death of cold coming down in my dressing-gown into this cold hall. Now, just go off – do, and leave me alone.’
‘I shall not,’ answered the Prince.
‘Why not? What do you want at this time of night?’
‘I want the throne!’
‘Then you can’t have it; it’s a reserved seat, and I’ve taken it already.’
‘But what right have you to it?’
‘I’m the sovereign,’ said Mumkie.
‘You’re a false coin then – you’re not half a sovereign!’
‘I’m quite as good as the last sovereign. He’s lost the crown, so he’s only worth fifteen shillings.’
‘Well, fifteen shillings is three crowns, and you haven’t got one.’
‘Yes, I have.’
‘Well, then, you won’t have it long.’
‘I shall have it to the end of my life.’
‘Not if I can help it,’ retorted the Prince.
‘But you can’t help it.’
‘Why not, pray?’
‘Well, you can’t, unless you scalp me, – it’s the crown of my head I mean.’
‘Well, then, I’ll have your head cut off.’
‘I shall die then, so I shall keep the crown until I die. Besides, I shall have your head cut off instead, for I’ll call out the soldiers.’
‘That’s no good. They’re all on my side,’ answered the Prince.
‘Then it’s all up with me. As Julius Cæsar says – let’s see, what did he say, now? – ah yes!’ and he began to roar ‘A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!’
‘You’ll make yourself hoarse if you go on roaring like that. Besides, your share of the kingdom isn’t worth a horse – it’s not even worth a horse-chestnut.’
‘That’s rather old,’ said the King. ‘However, what are you going to do with me?’
‘I’m going to turn you into what you wanted to turn my father into. You shall have his cottage and all the live-stock and implements thereto appertaining.’
‘What does that mean?’ asked the astonished Mumkie.
‘Oh, find out,’ said the Prince. And he found out eventually.
The Prince now gave orders that he should be taken to the coal-cellar and locked in there for fear of escape. And so the poor old man was led off, muttering to himself, ‘Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.’
But the Prince answered:
‘Well, you needn’t talk; your head doesn’t wear a crown.’ And from that time forth it didn’t.
While this was being done, the Princess had noticed that a man had been stealing round the corner. He was standing close beside her now, and he seemed quite unconscious of her presence. The Princess looked at him.
‘He must be one of the five they brought in with them,’ she said to herself. So she counted; but to her astonishment she found there were six of them – with him.
‘He must be some one belonging to the Palace,’ she thought, ‘and he may be up to some mischief.’ So she watched him closely. It was evident that the rest thought he was one of themselves, for they took no notice of him in particular.
The man, however, seemed quite innocent; but the Princess noticed that he was fingering a pistol that he had in his belt in a most suspicious way. So she kept quite close to him while they descended the stairs to the cellars. And she was right; for, in the twinkling of a bed-post, he drew the pistol from his belt and aimed straight towards the Prince. But before he could draw the trigger, she lifted up her hand and gave him such a box on the ear that, in his astonishment and pain, he dropped the pistol altogether, and it exploded harmlessly. As for the man, he was so astonished that he sat down on the floor with his mouth and eyes wide open, looking like an expiring frog.
At the report of his pistol every one turned, and Ablot noticed him for the first time.
‘Why, who are you?’ he said.
But the man only gasped.
‘Who is he?’ asked the Prince of the men.
‘We thought he was one of us,’ they all answered in astonishment.
‘Who are you?’ asked the Prince.
But he only gasped on in silence.
‘Stick a pin into him, and see if that will bring him to.’ And a man was just going to do it when he said, in a gruff voice:
‘Don’t; I’m Wopole.’
‘Oh, you’re Wopole. And who’s he?’ asked the Prince.
‘I used to be the falconer of the late tyrant, now sojourning in the coal-hole there.’
‘Oh! and so you tried to shoot me?’
‘Not at all, your Majesty. I was only firing a royal salute to show my joy at your ascent to the throne.’
‘That’s not true,’ said the voice of the Princess, so suddenly that every one started and the falconer collapsed again.
‘I’ve a good mind to have your head cut off,’ said the Prince, who by this time had grown used to the voice. ‘However, I’ll just put you in the coal-hole along with your late master.’
Wopole having been accordingly put into the hole, everything seemed quiet; and as it was getting late, the Princess thought she would leave them. She therefore returned as fast as she could, and getting into bed slept soundly till morning.
She did not awake until long after her usual hour, for you see she was not used to being out so late, and she was only roused in the morning by the Queen knocking at the door.
‘Ernalie! Ernalie!’ she called; ‘get up. It’s half-past seven. You ought to have been up this two hours.’
She got up as fast as she could; and when she had laid the table, the King and Queen came down.
‘I wish you’d knock at Treblo’s door and tell him we’re waiting breakfast for him,’ the Queen said to Ernalie, and she accordingly went; but she couldn’t get any answer, and she went downstairs once more and told them he seemed to be out.
‘Where can he be?’ asked the King.
‘I rather think he’s gone out for a walk,’ suggested the Princess.
‘It’s funny; he usedn’t to be fond of getting up so early. Just go to the door and see if he is coming across the fields.’
Ernalie obediently went to the door, and shading her eyes from the glare of the sun, looked over the fields towards the road.
She came back quickly.
‘I can’t see him,’ she said; ‘but there’s a whole lot of people coming across the field.’
The King looked vexedly astonished.
‘What on earth do they want?’ he said. ‘It must be some fresh trick of Mumkie for bothering me.’
However, by this time the people had reached the garden gate, and they could hear a man’s step on the gravel-walk. It stopped at the door, and a knock was heard.
‘Come in,’ cried the King; and the man entered, bowing profoundly.
When the King saw who it was he looked surprised, and said:
‘Why, Lord Corax, what do you want with me?’
‘I have come to receive your Majesty’s orders,’ said the man in a singularly hoarse voice.
The King looked still more astonished.
‘My orders! What do you mean?’
‘I mean your Majesty’s orders for the management of affairs,’ said the man, with a still deeper obeisance.
A light broke on the King’s face.
‘Oh! that’s what you mean, is it?’ he said.
‘It is, your Majesty,’ answered the courtier, bowing once more.
‘It strikes me you’re rather late in the day coming here, aren’t you?’ asked his Majesty.
The courtier pulled out a large watch.
‘It is, I believe, at the present moment thirty-five and a half minutes after eight a. m., your Majesty. At eight precisely I received orders from your Majesty’s son to come hither, bringing with me your Majesty’s coach and guard of honour. Likewise a person, by name Mumkie, who is for the future to inhabit this cottage, and to enjoy the privilege of using for his own purposes all the live stock – sheep, oxen, kine, sows, pigs, cocks, hens – ’
Here the King interrupted him.
‘That is enough. Tell them to get the carriage ready for three, and send Mumkie to me.’
‘Just so, your Majesty,’ said the courtier, and departed on his errand.
When he had gone the King said to the Queen and Ernalie:
‘Now, my dears, run up and put on your best things, and, Araminta, just see if our crowns are very tarnished. We ought to make our triumphal entry in state, for we are reinstated. And, by the bye, see if you’ve got an old coronet of Treblo’s that will fit Ernalie.’
‘What for, your Majesty?’ asked Ernalie in surprise.
‘For you to wear, of course,’ said the King.
‘But what do I want with a crown? I have to stop here with Mumkie – I’m part of the live stock.’
‘Good gracious! what do you mean?’ said the King and Queen together.
‘Well, you see, the agreement between your son and Mumkie was that Mumkie should have all the live stock of the farm, and as I’m alive I suppose I’m part of the live stock.’
‘I suppose you are,’ said the King.
Just at that moment a voice was heard outside, saying:
‘May I come in?’
‘Oh yes, come in,’ said the King.
And Mumkie entered, looking very dirty and black with coal-dust, for, you see, he had spent the night in the coal-cellar. They were all very much surprised, and naturally too, and the King remarked:
‘Good-morning! Have you washed?’
Mumkie shook his head.
‘I’ve been watched – only it’s not quite the same thing, your Majesty.’
‘Well, never mind. So there’s been a revolt, has there?’
‘A revolution, sire,’ answered Mumkie.
‘Ah, well, it’s all the same. They manage these things quickly here. By the bye, what was the arrangement that my son made about this house?’
‘He said I was to have the house and all the live stock.’
‘All the live stock?’ said the King.
‘All, your Majesty.’
‘Then I’m afraid it’s all up with you, Ernalie!’
‘I’m afraid it is, your Majesty, unless your Majesty would buy me from this gentleman.’
‘Good idea! What’ll you take for her, Mumkie?’
Mumkie looked at her critically.
‘What’s your weight?’ he said to her suddenly.
‘I don’t exactly see what that has to do with it.’
‘Well, I suppose you’re good, aren’t you?’
‘Oh, very good,’ said the Princess.
‘She’s as good as gold,’ said the Queen.
‘Just so,’ said Mumkie. ‘That’s why I wanted to know her weight. You see, I’ll sell her to you for her weight in gold.’
The King put his hand in his pocket, and drew out his purse and looked into it.
‘Will you take threepence-farthing on account?’ he said.
But Mumkie shook his head.
‘We only take ready money here, or pay on delivery.’
‘Then I suppose the only thing to do is to go to the Palace and fetch the money. Good-bye till then, Ernalie.’
So Ernalie kissed the King and Queen, and watched them go down the garden walk to the carriage, and saw them get in. The guard of honour fired a royal salute, and they drove off at a gallop. But Ernalie turned back into the house where Mumkie was awaiting her.
‘I’ve got a friend coming here to-day, shortly, and I don’t want to have our conversation overheard, so when he comes you cut your stick. Go and perform some wholesome menial function – clean the plates. Understand? And don’t you listen at the door, miss.’
‘I am not in the habit of listening at doors, and you’d better call me “your Royal Highness,” if you please.’
‘And why, your Royal Highness?’
‘Because I’m a Princess.’
‘Oh, you are! Then, I suppose, you’re a foreigner? And they have a custom here with foreigners of boiling them alive. How would you like that, your Royal Highness?’
‘You daren’t do it,’ said the Princess; but all the same she felt rather frightened. Just then a knock came at the door.
‘That’s Wopole,’ said Mumkie, ‘so your Royal Highness may take yourself off, and if I catch you listening at the door I’ll skin you alive.’
‘I never listen at doors,’ said the Princess. But she thought to herself: ‘I listen inside the room sometimes, though.’ And she ran upstairs to fetch her feather. She got it very quickly, and ran downstairs as lightly as possible. They had shut the door of the room, but she opened it boldly, and stepped in as quietly as she could. Mumkie looked up, as if he expected to see some one come in; but of course he did not.
‘It’s the wind, I suppose,’ said Wopole. ‘Anyhow, you’d better shut it. Some one might be listening.’
So Mumkie got up and shut it, and then went back to his seat again.
‘You say you can’t try to murder this Prince again?’ he said.
Wopole shook his head.
‘It’s no good. I tried last night, and I got such a box on my ear that I was half killed.’
