It was four o’clock before the Queen’s Party reached St. James’s Palace, and then being told, in answer to an enquiry, that the Princess was very well, concluded that nothing had happened. However, the Queen, to whom this whole affair must have been a great trial--for she was in very bad health--ascended the stairs to the Prince’s apartments, and Lord Hervey considerately promised to get her a fire and some chocolate in his own room. As she parted from him she made this most extraordinary remark, which can be taken as a sample of the unreasonable fear and hatred towards their son which had obsessed the minds of the King and Queen. “To be sure,” replied the Queen, referring to the chocolate and the fire, “I shall not stay long; I shall be mightily obliged to you”; then winked and added: “nor you need not fear my tasting anything in this side of the house.” The Prince received his mother and sisters in what is described by Lord Hervey as his night gown and night cap, but what we should more correctly describe as a dressing gown perhaps; he kissed the Queen’s hand and cheek in German fashion, and then broke the news to her of the birth of his daughter. Then there appears to have ensued a passage of words between mother and son as to why a messenger had not been sent to Hampton Court before to acquaint the King and herself of the happy event, as she had not left until more than three hours after the birth of the child. To this the Prince replied that he _had_ sent a messenger as soon as he could write the news, and this may very well have happened, as the journey took the Queen an hour and a half, with no doubt four horses to each coach. The Queen went into the Princess’s bedchamber, and seems to have greeted her kindly and congratulated her. “Apparrement, Madame,” she observed, “vous avez horriblement souffert.” “Point de tout,” answered the Princess; “ce n’est rien.” Then the “little rat” was brought in by Lady Hamilton and duly kissed by the royal grandmother: “Le bon Dieu,” she remarked, piously, “vous benisse pauvre petite creature! Vous voila arrivée dans un disagrèable monde!” The little one had not then been dressed, and was wrapped up in a red mantle. The Prince appears to have excitedly but perfectly openly narrated to his mother the circumstances of the journey, freely admitting that on the previous Monday and Friday he had also carried the Princess to London, thinking then that the event was imminent. The birth having taken place he seems to have made no secret of their desire that the accouchement of the Princess should take place in London. Lord Hervey, in his account, goes very fully into details, too much so, perhaps, to suit modern ideas of delicacy, but the Prince made no secret to his mother that at one time he thought that he should have had to take his wife into some house on the road, so imminent did the event seem.