"Go away, your Royal Highness, and go to bed, please," said Betsinda, with the warming-pan. But Bulbo said, "No, never, till thou swearest to be mine, thou lovely, blushing chambermaid divine! Here, at thy feet the royal Bulbo lies, the trembling captive of Betsinda's eyes." And he went on making himself so _absurd and ridiculous_, that Betsinda, who was full of fun, gave him a touch with the warming-pan, which, I promise you, made him cry "O-o-o-o!" in a very different manner. Prince Bulbo made such a noise that Prince Giglio, who heard him from the next room, came in to see what was the matter. As soon as he saw what was taking place, Giglio, in a fury, rushed on Bulbo, kicked him in the rudest manner up to the ceiling, and went on kicking him till his hair was quite out of curl. Poor Betsinda did not know whether to laugh or to cry; the kicking must certainly have hurt the Prince, but then he looked so droll! When Giglio had done knocking him up and down to the ground, and whilst he went into a corner rubbing himself, what do you think Giglio does? He goes down on his own knees to Betsinda, takes her hand, begs her to accept his heart, and offers to marry her that moment. Fancy Betsinda's condition, who had been in love with the Prince ever since she first saw him in the palace garden, when she was quite a little child. "Oh, divine Betsinda!" says the Prince, "how have I lived fifteen years in thy company without seeing thy perfections? What woman in all Europe, Asia, Africa, and America--nay, in Australia, only it is not yet discovered--can presume to be thy equal? Angelica? Pisch! Gruffanuff? Phoo! The Queen? Ha, ha! Thou art my queen. Thou art the real Angelica, because thou art really angelic." "Oh, Prince! I am but a poor chambermaid," says Betsinda, looking, however, very much pleased. "Didst thou not tend me in my sickness, when all forsook me?" continues Giglio. "Did not thy gentle hand smooth my pillow, and bring me jelly and roast-chicken?" "Yes, dear Prince, I did," says Betsinda, "and I sewed your Royal Highness's shirt-buttons on too, if you please, your Royal Highness," cries this artless maiden. When poor Prince Bulbo, who was now madly in love with Betsinda, heard this declaration, when he saw the unmistakable glances which she flung upon Giglio, Bulbo began to cry bitterly, and tore quantities of his hair out of his head, till it all covered the room like so much tow. Betsinda had left the warming-pan on the floor while the Princes were going on with the conversation, and as they began now to quarrel and be very fierce with one another, she thought proper to run away. "You great big blubbering booby, tearing your hair in the corner there! of course you will give me satisfaction for insulting Betsinda. _You_ dare to kneel down at Princess Giglio's knees, and kiss her hand!" "She's not Princess Giglio," roars out Bulbo. "She shall be Princess Bulbo, no other shall be Princess Bulbo."