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CHAPTER XVI.

DAFFODIL went to bed in her prison that melancholy night, because there was nothing else to do and she thought it would be wise to try to keep herself strong and fresh for whatever events she might have to meet next day, but, as may easily be understood, excitement and apprehension kept her long waking and made her slumbers broken and feverish. At length, however, she slept long enough to have a quiet dream and, for the first time since she had been in Croäxaxica, she dreamt of her former home. She seemed to be swimming pleasantly in the river with the black dog and the white cat, who were telling her anecdotes of their infancy and contradicting each other’s stories. Presently the river, of its own accord, altered its course and took them to the door of her parent’s house, where Keziah was sitting on the doorstep, shelling peas, in company with a girl in a dress of fish’s scales shining with rainbow colours in the sun, whom she introduced to Daffodil as one of the river‐people young ladies come to spend the day. Then she seemed to have gone upstairs and to be showing her father and mother a lovely green and lilac caterpillar and asking them page: 207 how long it would take to turn into a butterfly, and her father was nodding his head and saying “It will depend on yourself.” A plashing in the water awoke her just then—it was the guard at the door of her apartment being relieved, and she knew the day was beginning. But she felt pleased at having remembered in her sleep, and she was soothed: she lay still and tried to begin the dream again, and, though she did not succeed in that, she had a good refreshing sleep.

It was long past her usual hour of rising when she awoke again, but her sleep had done her so much good that it was not lost time. Her dream too, which in a different sort of climate might have started in her mind a train of too vivid memories and longings, in dispiriting contrast with the realities of her present position, remained with her as a quieting pleasure, like a sweet tune lately listened to that keeps coming into one’s ears. And it left her an odd encouragement: the observation “It will depend on yourself,” did not seem particularly practical and convincing, on reflection, as an account of the prospects of the caterpillar in the dream, and, alas! was but little applicable to her own prospects awake, of which the alarming point was that they were not to be allowed to depend in the least on herself; and yet she found it coming over and over again into her mind and raising her spirits surprisingly. She found herself singing it and whispering it, as if it were a charm to bring better luck.

“I wonder why I keep repeating that,” she said to herself, at last. “It’s just what isn’t true; for it all depends on the Queen. However, I must try page: 208 something, if it is only to keep from crying again as I did last night.”

The only thing she could think of was a supplicating letter to the Queen, and she knew there was little hope from that. But she asked the gaoler who took away her breakfast to carry a message requesting an interview with the Lieutenant of the State Prison, and, when that officer came, deferential as last night, she prevailed upon him to allow her writing material and to consent to request the Queen’s permission to have the missive delivered to her. He did not yield to the wishes of his prisoner without hesitation; but she urged that his refusing her would be deciding on a matter concerning which the Queen had not expressed her intention, and the argument prevailed.

She gave much thought to the composition of her letter, in order to avoid saying anything which could hurt the Queen’s feelings or seem disloyal or irreverent to anybody or anything. Remembering the conversation of the poor Queen of Grachidichika, it now struck her that she ought to have been more tender in her refusal of a suitor once a loss for Queen Raucacoäxine herself—who could not, therefore, but be sensitive about a disparaging rejection of him and his Crown. She recognised, too, her indiscreetness in taking upon herself, on the spur of the moment, to propose changes in the legislation of the Kingdom, and then her rashness and offence against decorum in thrusting upon the Queen her volunteer arguments against Her cherished scheme for Her son’s marriage. What she now urged was her own unsuitability to be the wife of a person page: 209 whose habits she did not understand, and to take the management of his household affairs and kingdom. She ventured, however, to plead, with all the pathos she could, the unhappiness she should feel in a union for which she was so ill adapted, and to implore Her Majesty to spare her. And she humbly suggested that, if it was considered that her being put in charge of the King of Grachidichika could prolong his life and serve Croäxaxica and that Royal House from which she had received so many favours, she should be allowed to be merely his governess or his nurse.

An hour or so after this appeal had been despatched, Daffodil was joyfully surprised by the announcement that Her Grandeur the Private Under‐Princess was asking to see her, and had the Queen’s permission. Of course she readily consented to receive her visitor. Croässaquagha, it proved, had not come merely by the Queen’s permission, but by Her desire, although she was not to be considered as bearing any message from Her Majesty, who could on no account so far condescend to an offender who had not yet made unlimited submission.

“I am bound to the strictest secrecy,” said Croässaquagha. “Nobody else has been allowed to know what has become of you. There was a great commotion when you were missed, but the Queen had it given out that she knew all about it and that it would be seen in a few days that you had gone to a wonderful advancement, and that, of course, has set curiosity at rest. But she was so much pleased with your letter that she sent for me privately and confided your address to me that I might come to you about it.”

“What is her answer?” asked Daffodil, eagerly.

“She does not make any answer at all. She cannot take any notice of you. But I may tell you what I know. She does not think badly of you, now she sees that it is timidity caused by a sense of your drawbacks from natural inferiority that has unsettled your mind and led you to the excess of hesitating about your obedience in the matter. But she expects absolute compliance, and, as to your being governess or nurse instead of Queen, you cannot possibly do what would be derogatory to the dignity of the office of Dressmaker Plenipotentiary of Croäxaxica, and the King of Grachidichika cannot be put under the superintendence of any one less than his Queen. Besides, the Head Royal Physician and the Ambassador have been hard at work bringing him to want to marry you, and he would get into an alarming state if he did not have his own way now he is bent on it. So you will be married to‐morrow.”

Daffodil protested; but the Private Under‐Princess explained to her that she had no escape: she would be taken to Grachidichika still a prisoner, secretly, at four in the morning, and the first and, as to law, sole essential, marriage ceremony would begin at once. If necessary to keep her quiet, she would be manacled, and even gagged; but that would only be for peace’s sake, as no opposition she made would have the slightest effect in delaying the marriage, or in making it invalid. In order to get it through quickly, not only was each of the nine days’ solemnisations due for a Prince’s marriage to be condensed and expedited so as to make it only the five minutes’ length usual on the last day of the nine, but as, by an arrange‐ page: 211 ment for which there were one or two precedents in the history of Grachidichika, the wedding days could be measured in an exceptional manner, instead of by the usual number of hours, the days to elapse during the marriage were to be each but of fifteen minutes—giving just comfortable time for the procession from and to the Royal Palace, and the marriage service, each day. The marriage celebrations, including King Grenoulcrawk’s abdication at the commencement and Brekekex’s abdication at the end, would be completed before most people had finished getting up.

“Then there is no escape!” exclaimed Daffodil, bursting into tears.

But presently, while her friend was trying to soothe her by telling her of the coronation, which would take place a week after the marriage, publicly, and with parade enough to make up for the hurry and privacy of the marriage, a thought struck her which seemed at least to give promise of delay. “They’ll be forced to let me wait,” she said, cheering up. “There isn’t a white water‐lily in flower, and not a bud that can come out big enough for me to get into, whatever is done to bring it on.”

But Croässaquagha destroyed the hope as soon as it was spoken. “That does not affect your wedding. The white lily has nothing to do with Grachidichikan alliances. And, as you are not of the Croäxaxican Royal House, not only it is not necessary for the legality of your marriage to a member of the Grachidichikan House, but you are not allowed to assume it. White flowers of any other sort are proper for your bridal dress; and the Queen has selected page: 212 some splendid campanulas. to be ready for you tomorrow.”

“Is it all so settled as that?” gasped Daffodil, her dismay now complete. That this preparation should have been made impressed her with the feeling that she was indeed a bride.

“All is settled past undoing,” replied Croässaquagha. “And now cheer up, dear. Let us plan your dress for your Soirée Of Honour after your coronation.”

Daffodil preferred the consolation of complaining of her fate. The only bit of brightness about her prospect was, she declared, that the horrid old idiot who was to be her husband would be sure very soon to throw a chair at her head and kill her, as he did poor Chachareraroncaxa, and she should be out of it all. But Croässaquagha insisted against this discontented view. She dwelt on the sublimity of being a Queen, on the undisturbed opportunities the Queen of Grachidichika could have for living with Art and her soul, on the wonderful wardrobe reported to possess such treasures even in its uncultured state, and of which Daffodil herself had given her a description that made her feel that an artist’s genius could feed on its fantastic combinations hour after hour and day after day. “Precautions could be taken,” she said, “against the King, your husband’s, getting at anything very heavy to throw in his fun. And, besides, he is growing weaker so fast that he soon will not be apt to try anything fatiguing. And surely your soaring spirit cannot set a little hurt or annoyance from your husband against the ecstasies of pride as a Queen and composure as an artist which await you in Grachidichika.”

Daffodil sprang to her feet. “I have thought of something. Do you really mean that you think it would be nice to be Queen of Grachidichika, Croässaquagha?”

“Can you doubt it? To inferior natures the sacred solitude of Grachidichika might seem a little tedious, even amid the inspiring consciousness of one’s own Royalty, but to my rapt mind there would be, not solitude, but a countless crowd; for the solitude would have my genius for its populace. Surely you too must feel that, for the untrammelled essence of the artist’s soul, there can be no higher destiny than to be Queen of Grachidichika.”

“I daresay you are right,” said Daffodil: “and so, since you would like it so much, why shouldn’t you become Queen of Grachidichika?”

“Daffodil! What! Have you indeed divined my secret yearning—or rather regret—for an impossibility? But it could never be. I am not even legally eligible.”

“Why not,” replied Daffodil, “if I am?”

“The Dressmaker Plenipotentiary is allowed in cases where there is no one of Royal blood possible for a wife, but she is the lowest admissible candidate. And I am not Dressmaker Plenipotentiary.”

“But you have been; and that ought to do,” returned Daffodil. “And, besides,” she added thoughtfully “I don’t see that they are keeping so very strictly to the rules. There are the six Princesses being left out.”

“You must be very particular, if you call it breaking the rules not to insist on his marrying his six sisters,” said Croässaquagha.

“Oh, I see,” said Daffodil, enlightened. “You mean Prince Brekekex. Would you like to marry him?”

“Who wouldn’t?” said Croässaquagha, laughing. “Why, you look as thoughtful as if you were putting the question in earnest. Of course I should like to marry Prince Brekekex, if it were possible: and so would you.”

“He is much nicer than that King Grenoulcrawk, certainly,” said Daffodil. “A hundred times nicer, for anybody he quite suited. But I am afraid it was only Grenoulcrawk that I thought we could manage with for you to be Queen of Grachidichika.”

“But that too is impossible,” said Croässaquagha, mournfully.

“I don’t think the Queen is so very particular about him, if she can only get the rules to seem to be kept,” argued Daffodil; “or else she would not be taking me for him and having all that abdicating to fit me in. She could easily make out that your position was the same for him as if you were still Dressmaker Plenipotentiary—or she could make out something from your having the title of Princess—”

“Under‐Princess,” interpolated Croässaquagha.

“Well, he is a very under sort of King,” said Daffodil.

“I don’t know about that,” said the Private Under‐Princess, rather scandalised at Daffodil’s irreverence. “He is King Regnant of the Matrimonial State of Grachidichika; and his wife will be the greatest Queen in the world next to Queen Raucacoäxine.”

“Well, anyhow the Queen could easily find some page: 215 way of getting rid of your tiny bit of ineligibility, as it is so very tiny. Why, she could let you abdicate the Private and the Under for the wedding, or he could abdicate himself into a Private Under Prince for the occasion.”

“I believe you are right as to the legal possibilities,” said Croässaquagha, thoughtfully.

“And don’t you think that the Queen would rather it were you than I, when she saw it could be? You see I am a foreigner and don’t understand the ways, and you would make such a much better Queen of Grachidichika. And then she can’t really like making me marry bound and gagged.”

“Yes, she would prefer it, I think, in itself,” said Croässaquagha; “but her heart is set now on Guachapeara becoming Dressmaker Plenipotentiary.”

“That’s easy,” Daffodil replied cheerfully. “I’ll resign at once.”

“You cannot. I resigned for you; you cannot for Guachapeara.”

“Why not? I’d resign for anybody the Queen liked.”

“Even if you are willing to make such a sacrifice of your position and your fame,” replied the Under‐Princess, “the Queen could not permit it. It would be a scandal. I am the only Dressmaker Plenipotentiary who ever vacated the office, except by death—natural death, or in the Boa Constrictor’s mouth for treason, as has happened thrice in the history of Croäxaxica. Your unprecedented style of genius—a genius that can bear the clog of having to execute its conceptions for the vulgar eye to perceive—was fit reason for my unprecedented course. page: 216 But it would be ridiculous for you to imitate my example for Guachapeara, and it would make her ridiculous—and the thing that no inimitable Croäxaxican can be allowed to be is to be ridiculous.”

“Then I will resign in your favour. That will make you eligible for the marriage without any more trouble. Then, as soon as you are married, the office will be vacant and Princess Guachapeara can have it.”

“It is impossible. You don’t even yet understand the immutability with which the reverence of ages surrounds your office. How can you resign it for me who have already surrendered it to you on the ground of your better fitness for it? No: as long as you exist, neither I nor Guachapeara can be Dressmaker Plenipotentiary—unless, of course, your elevation to the throne of Grachidichika removes you.”

“I seem terribly in the way,” said Daffodil. “And I am in my own way worst of all.”

“I told you you could not alter anything,” said Croässaquagha. “You had much better not fidget about it any more. Fate has decreed you a high and soul‐inspiring destiny: accept it, for you are worthy of it.”

“I feel quite sure the Queen and Guachapeara herself wouldn’t think it made her ridiculous,” said Daffodil returning to her theme after her momentary despair. “And I could have some name given me that would allow me to do all the inventing for her quietly and keep her from making blunders.”

Croässaquagha gazed at her with surprise and admiration. “All obstacles disappear before your commanding intellect, your invincible will. Yes, page: 217 this mighty scheme can be carried out, and I may be Queen of Grachidichika. But let me think. For one thing, can I consent to supplant yourself on the throne?”

“I shall be so much obliged to you, if you will,” said Daffodil.

Croässaquagha sat for a few minutes absorbed in thought. Then she gave a sudden “Oh!”

“What is it?” cried Daffodil. “Have you hurt yourself?”

“The Workhouse!” said Croässaquagha. “We were forgetting the Workhouse.”

“No we weren’t” said Daffodil. “We talked about that at the beginning, and I told you that wasn’t the part I minded.”

“You did, you did. But in our picturings of the joys of the Queen of Grachidichika, even as the wife of Grenoulcrawk and not Brekekex, I had forgotten that the Workhouse for Failures awaited Grenoulcrawk’s wife, and that soon.”

“I should say the Workhouse was the best part of it.”

“I know you do, strange being. The coarse fare, the mushrooms and the unflavoured water, you make your chosen diet in a palace. You dispense with our luxuries; you—you even like work.”

“I like some of the work you say they do in the Workhouse for Failures,” Daffodil said. “I should like to make the coloured waters, and I should not mind plaiting lattice‐work. I don’t think I should like teasing bog cotton, nor yet making mud—but anything would seem better than being with that Grenoulcrawk for a husband.”

“I must believe you, though I cannot understand you ”replied the Private Under‐Princess. “For you, then, the workhouse has no terrors. But for me, born in splendours, nursed in luxury, revered, beloved, admired, for me to endure the privations and drudgery of the poverty‐stricken receptacle for failures, for me, ME, to be classed as a failure—” she paused horror‐struck, then, clasping her hands, she exclaimed. “Daffodil, for pity’s sake do not give the Queen a hint even of the scheme you have entertained. She would jump at the notion. Nothing could save me.”

“Couldn’t I say you wouldn’t have the King at all if you were to have to go to the Workhouse after, and that the Queen must consider herself bound in honour not to act upon my plan at all unless she would accept the condition and get you abdicated, or something, out of that rule?” was Daffodil’s next suggestion.

But Croässaquagha felt no confidence in the Queen’s considering herself bound by any such stipulation, and was in a great fright. “If she once gets a glimmering of your plan, she will insist on it, whatever becomes of me. It would suit her so capitally; because you could be kept to do all Guachapeara’s inventing for her and make her famous.”

“I must think of something else,” sighed Daffodil, wearily. She would not give the answer Croässaquagha was to ask for the Queen as to her behaviour on the morrow. “I won’t say what I’ll do, till I have had a good while to think by myself,” she declared resolutely. “And, if that answer does make page: 219 the Queen more angry, I can’t help it. She cannot possibly punish me worse than by marrying me the way she is going to do.”

She consented, however, to send a respectful message to the effect that she would be prepared to state her intention later, if Her Majesty required her to do so.

“And I do hope your answer will be that you will go and be married quietly,” said the Private Under‐Princess, as she took leave, “You see it does not in the least depend upon you whether you are married or not, but it does depend upon you whether it will be done comfortably for you or not.”

The words sounded disagreeably true. Daffodil thought for hours, and at the end they only seemed truer. She resolved to go quietly.

In the evening, a muffled figure entered unannounced. It was the Queen. “Dressmaker Plenipotentiary,” she said in solemn tones, “I myself, your Queen, give you a latest opportunity of a return to loyalty and obedience. You are to be married to‐morrow. Do you go to Grachidichika willingly and thankfully, or do I send you there in shackles?”

“I can’t go willingly and thankfully, please Your Majesty,” replied Daffodil, “because I do so very much hate it. But, if you won’t be merciful and let me off, I will go without resistance.”

“And smilingly?” asked the Queen, still with some severity in her tone, though evidently beginning to be appeased.

“I will smile, since your Majesty desires it” said Daffodil.

“You are a darling!” said the Queen, and she gave her a kiss.

“I would rather Your Majesty did not do that,” said Daffodil; “because I should certainly thwart your wish in this matter if I could.”

“You can’t,” said the Queen. “And all I want of you is that you shan’t make any tiresome fuss. You promise?”

“Yes” said Daffodil. “Since it is of no use to make a fuss, I won’t make one.”

“Then I still say you are a darling,” said the Queen, highly pleased, and she kissed her again. She was now in such good humour that she sat down and entered into conversation, describing pathetically all the troubles she had had while bringing about this marriage. Matters were now all comfortably settled. The Regius Professor of Everything, in terrible grief at having forfeited the Queen’s favour, had shut himself up with all his books and with a stack of water‐cresses and a ton of mussels to sharpen his wits, determined not to stir out until he had discovered something to assist her in her policy. The result was that he went, after only three days, to the Crown Prince, able to point out to him that, if the Duke of Happypool were to be made King of Grachidichika, his daughter, as daughter of a reigning King, would not be able to marry the Crown Prince’s eldest son, if the Crown Prince was still Crown Prince when his eldest son was ready for a wife—which was more likely than the opposite contingency, as King Logaplop gave, happily, every promise of living into a hale old age. The Crown Prince, impressed by this important aspect of page: 221 the case, and glad to have an opportunity of ending the coolness between himself and his mother, went to her and communicated the Professor’s statement, expressing himself willing to withdraw every suggestion of the Duke of Happypool’s being made King Grenoulcrawk’s successor, under existing circumstances, and wholly convinced of the wisdom of Her Majesty’s scheme. The Queen had received her son’s return to her councils with joy, and the Regius Professor of Everything gained a higher place in her favour than ever. The Head Royal Physician also had thoroughly atoned for his error: the zeal and skill with which he had calmed King Grenoulcrawk’s feverish fractiousness and assisted the ambassador to make him, not only content to marry Daffodil, but fretting for her arrival, had earned Her Majesty’s highest satisfaction. The Princesses had been won to forget their dislike to the loss of their favourite companion and helper by its being decided that, as the bridegroom, though he had to be unkinged for just the time of the wedding, was really a King, it would not be unseemly that they should add lustre to the bride’s position by being of her wedding party. They had left off crying, and were impatient for the eventful morning. Prince Brekekex alone remained uncheerful. He approved, indeed, of the Queen’s scheme, as the only practical way to meet so many difficulties; but he was grieved at Daffodil’s unwillingness. In spite of its being very disagreeable to him to contemplate her permanent absence in Grachidichika and the Workhouse, he would have taken things pleasantly, like everybody else, if the bride had felt the natural pleasure of her position, page: 222 but, now it appeared as if her reluctance were so much in earnest that she must be forced to her wedding like a criminal to execution, he seemed so full of hesitation and compunction that it was feared that, if she persevered in her obstinacy, he might give trouble at the last moment and even have to have his signature put to the abdicating document by force.

“But now,” said the Queen, “all will go delightfully, and I shall not have the vexation of forcing anybody to do anything they object to. You are really a darling, and I am quite sorry to part with you. If there were any other way of managing things, I would not do it even now.”

Daffodil thought of that plan about Croässaquagha which she knew would please the Queen so well, and bit her lip hard not to cry. But, although she could not free herself from her hated fate by the only means which seemed sure of success, she made one more attempt by a fervent supplication to the Queen to let her off the marriage. She moved the Queen to tears. “I am really very sorry for you,” said Her Majesty tenderly; “since you feel your leaving our Court with this sincerity, I wish I had any other person who could fill your place. But you see what unspeakably important interests depend on your becoming Queen of Grachidichika. There, now, go to bed early, and get up to‐morrow a happy fond smiling bride, as you promised.”

“Your Majesty, I only promised to smile,” said Daffodil.

“Quite so,” said the Queen graciously. “I am very much pleased with you. Good‐night, your Matri‐ page: 223 monial Majesty.” And off she went, in the height of affability.

Daffodil took Queen Raucacoäxine’s advice and went to bed early; she remembered. that she was to leave the prison at four, and she wished to be as fresh in mind and body as possible. “Whatever is to happen to me,” she thought, “I had better keep myself able to do the best I can.”

She was awakened next morning still earlier than she had expected. The Queen had ordered that she should secretly be conducted to the Palace. Her Majesty received her herself. “Isn’t this nice for you?” she said to her. “I didn’t like your starting from the prison—and there might be a talk about it if it got known—and, now you are in the proper frame of mind for a bride, you can be dressed in my own room, and start from the Palace with the Royal Party.”

“I had rather go this way than bound and gagged,” replied Daffodil brightly. And she set about her wedding toilette with alacrity, and thanked the Head Royal Dresspicker and the Head Royal Dressmaker for the pains they must have taken to prepare such a pretty and well‐sized bridal costume. The Queen presented her with a magnificent tiara of toadstools, and there were bracelets and necklaces as wedding presents from every member of the Royal Family and from the Private Under‐Princess, whose great wealth had enabled her to send jewels which the Queen herself could scarcely match, and from the Regius Professor and the Head Royal Physician. Daffodil felt pleased at so much kindness.

As the procession, with as much quiet and secrecy as its stateliness allowed, started for Grachidichika, Daffodil could not but observe that she was still closely guarded and that, although everything was done to conceal the fact under the semblance of a reverent attendance upon her, a close watch over her was kept. However, as she had not dreamed for a moment of breaking her word, she felt no disappointment at these indications of the impossibility of her escape. She had the honour of being escorted by the Crown Prince, and with him she chatted so agreeably that he was moved to exclaim “I am really so sorry we are to lose you. Our Court will be quite dull without you.”

Prince Brekekex, escorting the Crown Princess, noted the bride’s demeanour, and brightened with her brightness. “It is so nice to find you so pleased,” he took an opportunity of saying to her as they stopped without the Kingdom of Grachidichika, at the tunnel’s mouth, to wait for King Grenoulcrawk, who was to sign his abdication there. “I shouldn’t have liked to do my part this morning, if you had been vexed at the marriage still: but it’s all quite enjoyable now.”

“And, as you would have to be made to do your part by force, if you refused, I would rather you did it comfortably,” said Daffodil.

“That’s just it,” answered the bride of King Grenoulcrawk.

As she spoke, King Grenoulcrawk’s head appeared peeping out of the tunnel, then disappeared with a jerk, as if he had been pulled back. Next moment the whole of him was seen, with his arms leaning on the Ambassador and the Head Royal Physician, who seemed much more anxious to continue their support than he to accept it—the fact being that they were afraid of his bouncing into the canal, now they had brought him so temptingly near that opportunity for playing them a trick.

“Pray make haste, Prince Brekekex,” cried the Head Royal Physician, there being no time for ceremony; and Brekekex sprang, at one leap, over the heads of the bride and her Royal Bridesmaids, to the edge of the landing‐place. There the King poked into his hand a deed, which Brekekex signed, and which the King was, with some difficulty, got to make a show of signing by just touching the letters of his name. “I signed it last night for you,” he kept declaring, “and it can’t have worn out so soon.” However, he did what was wanted, and again poked the document into Brekekex’s hand. Brekekex, thereupon, jumped out of the water, and, the moment he was ashore, on a whisper from the Ambassador, snatched off Grenoulcrawk’s crown and put it on his own head, dragged the sceptre from under Grenoulcrawk’s arm, took the ball which the Head Royal Physician had twitched out of Grenoulcrawk’s pocket ready for him, and ran off into Grachidichika before the dethroned monarch could make an effort to stop him.

It is doubtful whether Grenoulcrawk understood the process he had gone through, but at any rate his feeble faculties were unable to comprehend the propriety of somebody else using his crown, sceptre, and ball, and (and of this he thought still more) preceding him in the procession. But, while he was stamping and scolding, the Head Royal Physician, with great presence of mind, exclaimed, as if something unexpected had happened at that moment, “Hullo! Here’s the bride! What an extraordinary creature! Isn’t she lovelily funny?” And, the bridegroom’s attention being thus diverted from his grievance, matters became pleasant again.

The wedding party now landed solemnly, and Daffodil was led to her bridegroom, who received her with enthusiastic delight, turning summersaults and cutting capers in her honour until he was out of breath and could barely totter. As soon as he was able to lead the procession, it started for the palace whence the ceremonial march to the wedding was to begin. Etiquette did not allow of his conducting his bride on the way to his Palace; the appearance, hand in hand, of the Royal Bridal Pair, which is a marked portion of the wedding formalities, would have been premature at present, and the Crown Princess of Croäxaxica, the highest lady present, was the proper person for him to escort. The bride followed with the Crown Prince, surrounded by the Royal Princesses who had condescended to be her bridesmaids. Grenoulcrawk, though he submitted to this arrangement, was so eager to have the wedding begin and to be able to walk with the wife whom he declared “just made for page: 227 him, she suited him so well,” that, as soon as he recovered from his previous exertions, he first tried walking backwards to see her as they followed him, and then, finding that inconvenient, set off running to get to the Palace as fast as possible, pulling his daughter along with him, and compelling the whole company to break out of their dignified pace and scamper along not to lose sight of him.

When they arrived in the Great Throne Hall, they found Brekekex seated on the throne in state, as King of Grachidichika, with nobody with him but the Speaker of the House of Commons, who had been put there to attend on the new monarch. Only two of the most trusted of the inhabitants had been allowed to know what was going on, and they had to be at the cathedral, ready to receive the Patriarch of Croäxaxica, who had come with the wedding party, and to act as beadles. There was no permanent Cathedral in Grachidichika, the Royal chapel adjoining the Great Throne Room being more than large enough to accommodate all the inhabitants of the Kingdom, but, for high ceremonials, it was customary to raise in the grounds a temporary building called Cathedral, Hall, or Court, as the occasion required, in order to give space for a procession, and, though the haste and the secrecy of the present event made it impossible to have a construction of the customary size and dignity, it was indispensable to have something to represent the marriage Cathedral, as the bridal procession to it was in itself part of the marriage ceremony. The assembling of the wedding party in the Great Throne Hall was a matter of necessary etiquette, but it was not intended page: 228 to lose any time in the customary compliments and marshallings. The wisdom of curtailing this part of the proceedings was the more apparent that Grenoulcrawk manifested considerable perturbation at the sight of the occupier of his throne. In great haste the bride’s arm was placed in the bridegroom’s by the Crown Prince, and the pair were run and pushed up to the front of the throne to make their reverences to the King of Grachidichika.

“I greet my dear Royal Kinsfolk and subjects now ratifying their marriage contract. Come back to me presently husband and wife,” said Brekekex, in the formula prescribed for such occasions. If he had been going to the wedding he would have had to say “I will greet you presently husband and wife,” instead of “Come back to me.” It had been decided, however, that, although he did not like losing the wedding, he had better remain on the throne, so as to establish distinctly the fact that he, not Grenoulcrawk, had been King of Grachidichika during the marriage of Grenoulcrawk and the Dressmaker Plenipotentiary of Croäxaxica.

The word “wife” was still on Brekekex’s lips, when Daffodil found herself again hustled and dragged forward on Grenoulcrawk’s arm. Grenoulcrawk, himself, showed a momentary wish to resist. “He’s in my throne,” he grumbled. “And he’s got my crown and things,” but a “Hold your bride fast, Your Majesty, for fear she should run away,” from the Head Royal Physician, in a loud whisper of pretended alarm, distracted his attention satisfactorily while the pair were being got out of the Throne Room. The rest of the party followed as rapidly as their necessary page: 229 salutations to the King on the throne allowed—and such very diminished salutations had never been known before. Brekekex, though he knew that the irreverence was accidental, and though he was scarcely really a King, was not able to help feeling a little annoyed. But a consolatory thought struck him. “I shall make them all salute me with the full State honours, very slowly, after the marriage, before I abdicate,” said he to the Speaker when he found himself again alone with that solemn representative of the Grachidichikan nation.

Grenoulcrawk became sedate and cheerful as the procession advanced from the Palace. He walked looking at Daffodil, and seemed to find enjoyment in her company. He began conversation, telling her he had not understood why it wasn’t the Princess Royal of Croäxaxica that was insisting on marrying him, instead of only her, but that he now saw she had been quite right to insist, as he was very much pleased with her and quite agreed with his State advisers that it would not have been proper that any one but himself should have her, since there was not, he understood, any other such a frog as herself in the world. And he went so far as to stroke her face and call her his fine big doll.

“If you do that again, I’ll slap you,” cried Daffodil.

“That will be fun,” answered her bridegroom. “But we mustn’t begin to have a game of romps yet; because we must keep quiet till they have done getting us married. But come along, we’ll go quicker, and then all the fuss will be over sooner and we can do what we like by ourselves. Hooray!” and he began to prance along double quick.

Daffodil felt her heart sink at this exhilaration in her bridegroom. She had had leisure in the last two or three minutes, in spite of his chatter, to feel that the marriage ceremony had really begun, and she knew that a minute or two more must bring her to the spot for its irrevocable completion. Although several repetitions of the wedding forms were indispensable for decorum, the first celebration would be final in its binding effect, so that she was even now in the crisis of her fate. In all probability, thought she, they would find it necessary to hurry and hustle Grenoulcrawk through the ritual in the Cathedral, and she would find herself married before she could make out what was passing. She wanted all her composure now. And she especially wanted her bridegroom to be in the cheery quiet from which her threat had aroused him. With a horrible anxiety in her mind lest she should be too late in getting him calm enough for the attention she required, she set to work to bring him back to a more placid enjoyment of his position. He relaxed his pace, the idea of romping left him, and he began to chat sedately again. The rude little edifice, half cellar, half wigwam, which was to be their marriage Cathedral stood a dozen paces in front of them. There was no time to be lost.

“Do look at my funny nose‐knob,” said Daffodil.

Grenoulcrawk gazed at the protuberance, he stopped to gaze better, and turned to face her. On the moment, she moved to go on, and trod with all her might on his feet!

With a loud howl, the injured bridegroom sprang over the ground, ten feet at a time, and plunged into page: 231 the nearest guggle‐ooze beds. In vain was he pursued, in vain was he even overtaken, go near the bride he would not. His agitation whenever he was brought near her became so tremendous that the Head Royal Physician, although in agonies of apprehension lest Queen Raucacoäxine should misapprehend his motives, was forced to inform the Crown Prince that, if the attempt to reconcile the enraged and terrified bridegroom was persisted in, his life would be the price, as he had already had three fits, besides wearing himself faint with screaming. And, whenever Grenoulcrawk was not faint or in a fit, he was using his skill in throwing all sorts of heavy things at the wedding party, more especially at the Crown Prince. The Crown Prince agreed that they must go as fast as they could, taking the unlucky bride with them.

In the hurry to leave Grachidichika, Brekekex was almost forgotten. Daffodil remembered him when she caught sight of Grenoulcrawk running slily to the Palace with the Patriarch’s seat from the Cathedral on his head. Pointing him out with a cry of warning to those around her, she ran to the Palace, and, as the rest, though quicker runners than she, were slower in perceiving the need for haste, she reached the Throne Hall first. Just as she was telling Brekekex why he must come away at once, Grenoulcrawk rushed in, shouting “Now I’ll have my throne and crown and things,” and was about to hurl his missile. But, suddenly, seeing Daffodil, he gave a shriek of alarm, and fled. Brekekex, on his side, lost no time, before shouting “I abdicate, I abdicate.” He dashed the crown, the page: 232 sceptre, and the ball on the floor, and, rushing to the Speaker, threw into his lap the deed of abdication he had signed, ready for the proper moment, to pass the time while he was sitting on the throne with nothing to do. Then, hand in hand with Daffodil, whom he felt to be a sure protector against King Grenoulcrawk, he ran to the road out of Grachidichika, and met the contingent of the discomfited wedding party who had had the courage and energy to come to seek him—chiefly consisting of his youngest sisters, whose childish rashness experience had not yet controlled.

“We must hasten to inform Her Majesty of the surprising change of mind of the King of Grachidichika,” said the Crown Prince, with resentful dignity. And thereupon he took to his heels, and, everybody following his example, the wedding party speedily arrived in Croäxaxica.