in the capital, and the guns which the citizens were
firing off in honor of their Majesties.

"What can have induced that hideous old Gruffanuff to dress herself up
in such an absurd way? Did you ask her to be your bridesmaid, my dear?"
says Giglio to Rosalba. "What a figure of fun Gruffy is!"

Gruffy was seated opposite their Majesties, between the Archbishop and
the Lord Chancellor, and a figure of fun she certainly was, for she was
dressed in a low white silk dress, with lace over, a wreath of white
roses on her wig, a splendid lace veil, and her yellow old neck was
covered with diamonds. She ogled the King in such a manner that his
Majesty burst out laughing.

"Eleven o'clock!" cries Giglio, as the great Cathedral bell of
Blombodinga tolled that hour. "Gentlemen and ladies, we must be
starting. Archbishop, you must be at church, I think, before twelve?"

"We must be at church before twelve," sighs out Gruffanuff in a
languishing voice, hiding her old face behind her fan.

"And then I shall be the happiest man in my dominions," cries Giglio,
with an elegant bow to the blushing Rosalba.

"Oh, my Giglio! Oh, my dear Majesty!" exclaims Gruffanuff; "and can it
be that this happy moment at length has arrived--"

"Of course it has arrived," says the King.

"--and that I am about to become the enraptured bride of my adored
Giglio!" continues Gruffanuff. "Lend me a smelling-bottle, somebody. I
certainly shall faint with joy."

"YOU my bride?" roars out Giglio.

"YOU marry my Prince?" cried poor little Rosalba.

"Pooh! Nonsense! The woman's mad!" exclaims the King. And all the
courtiers exhibited by their countenances and expressions, marks of
surprise, or ridicule, or incredulity, or wonder.

"I should like to know who else is going to be married, if I am not?"
shrieks out Gruffanuff. "I should like to know if King Giglio is a
gentleman, and if there is such a thing as justice in Paflagonia? Lord
Chancellor! my Lord Archbishop! will your Lordships sit by and see a
poor, fond, confiding, tender creature put upon? Has not Prince Giglio
promised to marry his Barbara? Is not this Giglio's signature? Does not
this paper declare that he is mine, and only mine?" And she handed
to his Grace the Archbishop the document which the Prince signed
that evening when she wore the magic ring, and Giglio drank so
much champagne. And the old Archbishop, taking out his eyeglasses,
read--"This is to give notice, that I, Giglio, on