To Lord Hervey Sir Robert expressed himself more fully on this subject. “I’ll bring Madame Walmoden over,” he said, “and I’ll have nothing to do with your girls,” _i.e._, the Princesses. “I was for the wife against the mistress, but I’ll be for the mistress against the daughters.” It is needless to say that after this remark Lord Hervey and Sir Robert Walpole fell out. Meanwhile the Prince of Wales appears to have remained in his position of ostracism, and apparently took no part in his mother’s funeral ceremonies. The Princess Amelia acted as chief mourner, and the King did not appear at all. With the Princess, Frederick seems to have lived at Norfolk House very comfortably, coming over to Carlton House for any occasion of ceremony. The popularity of the Prince seemed to grow, as he lost favour with his father, and it is not at all to be wondered at, as he possessed a natural geniality which endeared him to all. A story is related of him in connection with a Lord Mayor’s Show, which is very typical. Waiting to see the pageant--which was the occasion probably which occurred during the year of mourning--the Prince of Wales went among the crowd in Cheapside to see the procession return to the Guildhall. Being recognised by some members of the Saddlers’ Company, he was invited into their stand hard by, and there made himself so agreeable that he was, there and then, elected their Master for the year; an honour which he accepted with much pleasure. This period of mourning was, however, after a time relieved of much of its tristness as far as the King was concerned, by the lively society of his mistresses, with whom the Princesses appeared to have associated in perfect harmony. One night at Kensington Palace, just as Lady Deloraine was about to sit down to cards with the King, one of the Princesses pulled her chair away and she came down with a bump on the floor. It was bad enough to be laughed at by the Princesses, but far worse to have little George guffawing at her with the knowledge in her mind that she was only playing second fiddle to the Walmoden. Lady Deloraine waited her opportunity, and later, when the King was about to sit down, pulled _his_ chair away, with the view of getting her own back again. The result, however, was not at all what she expected; the sacred person of his Majesty is said to have been much bruised, and so far from regarding the performance as a joke, he excluded Lady Deloraine from his Court from that time forth, and the Walmoden, now created Countess of Yarmouth, reigned henceforth supreme till the King’s death many years after. Many will recollect a similar anecdote in similar circumstances in our own day.