ut this statement corresponded so startlingly to his Majesty's own
experience that he began to pay closer attention.

"When have I done it?" demanded the Queen.

"The last time was when you sent me to spend three weeks with Aunt
Sophie in order to develop a taste for foreign missions. It didn't
succeed. And when I came back you had changed my suite of rooms without
asking me; and I was done out of my balcony!"

"I found her," the Queen explained, "going down by the balcony in the
early morning, while the gardeners were still about, to gather flowers."

"I didn't talk to the gardeners."

"You went out when I told you not to."

"You see!" appealed Charlotte, "she does vivisect me. Last time Aunt
Sophie was the anesthetic: sometimes it's even worse. You don't hear of
these things, papa, because I don't often complain; but there they are.
And mamma is so pleased with herself about it--that's what tries me!"

"Charlotte," said her father, "that's not pretty--that's not
respectful."

"No, but it's true."

The Queen attempted a diversion. "Why do you want an allowance? I give
you pocket-money, and you get all the dresses you need."

"I get a great many more," admitted Charlotte; "but I don't get one that
I really like."

"That shows your want of taste."

"Of course, I haven't your taste, mamma, you can't expect it; and what's
too good for me doesn't suit me."

But this obliquity of speech missed its point, for of her own taste the
Queen had no doubt whatever.

"But, my dear child," interposed the King, "do try to be reasonable!
Whatever allowance we made you, you couldn't go on giving a hundred
pounds to every charity. You'd have all the benevolent societies in the
kingdom flocking about you; life wouldn't be worth living."

"Oh, I know that, papa," said the Princess, "I'm not charitable in the
least. I'm only doing it to bring pressure on you; I haven't any other
reason whatever."

At this brazen avowal the Queen gasped; but his Majesty became more
sympathetic.

"I wanted," she went on, "to do it as nicely and respectably as
possible, and I thought to give you away in charity was better than
gambling or anything of that sort. Not that I haven't been tempted; for
you know, papa, I could quite easily lose you a hundred pounds at every
tea-party I go to. But now, if I'm asked to a bridge-table, all I can
say is, 'Papa won't make me an allowance, so I can't play for money.'"

"Surely you don't say that!" cr