nce, "only I had relied on
making my peace with his majesty, my father, by aid of those horns and
that tail. He was set on getting them; and if the Lady Rosalind had
not expressed a wish for them, they would to-day have been in his
possession."

"Oh, sir, you honour us too highly," murmured Lady Rosalind; and the
prince blushed and said:

"Not at all! Impossible!"

Then, of course, the ambassador became quite certain that his daughter
was admired by the crown prince, who was on bad terms with the king
of the country; and a more uncomfortable position for an
ambassador--however, they are used to them.

"What on earth am I to do with the young man?" he thought. "He can't
stay here for ever; and without his carpet he can't get away, for the
soldiers have orders to seize him as soon as he appears in the street.
And in the meantime Benson will be pretending that _he_ killed the
Firedrake--for he must have got to Falkenstein by now,--and they will be
for marrying him to the king's niece, and making my butler crown prince
to the kingdom of Pantouflia! It is dreadful!"

Now all this time the prince was on the balcony, telling Lady Rosalind
all about how he got the Firedrake done for, in the most modest way;
for, as he said: "I didn't kill him: and it is really the Remora, poor
fellow, who should marry Molly; but he 's dead."

At this very moment there was a _whizz_ in the air; something shot past
them, and, through the open window, the king, the queen, Benson, and the
mortal remains of the Firedrake were shot into the ambassador's drawing
room!

[Illustration: Page 69]

[Illustration: Chapter Fourteen]

CHAPTER XIV.--_The King Explains._

THE first who recovered his voice and presence of mind was Benson.

"Did your lordship ring for coffee?" he asked, quietly; and when he was
told "Yes," he bowed and withdrew, with majestic composure. When he had
gone, the prince threw himself at the king's feet, crying:

"Pardon, pardon, my liege!" "Don't speak to me, sir!" answered the
king, very angrily; and the poor prince threw himself at the feet of the
queen.

But she took no notice of him whatever, no more than if he had been a
fairy; and the prince heard her murmur, as she pinched her royal arms:

"I shall waken presently; this is nothing out of the way for a dream.
Dr. Rumpfino ascribes it to imperfect nutrition."

All this time, the Lady Rosalind, as pale as a marble statue, was
leaning against the side of t