The royal bride was conducted to the Queen’s house in the park, where, as my fair readers, and indeed _all_ readers with equal good sense and a proper idea of the fitness of things, will naturally conclude that all the royal family had assembled to welcome, with more than ordinary warmth, one who came among them under circumstances of more than ordinary interest. But the truth is that there was no one to give her welcome but solemn officers of state and criticising ladies-in-waiting. The _people_ were there of course, and the princess had no cause to complain of any lack of warmth on their part. For want of better company, she spent half an hour with the English commonalty; and as she sat in the balcony overlooking the park, the gallant mob shouted themselves hoarse in her praise, and did her all homage until the tardy lover arrived, whose own peculiar homage he should have been in a little more lover-like haste to pay. However, Frederick came at last, and he came alone. The King, Queen, duke, and princesses sent ‘their compliments, and hoped she was well!’ They could not have sent or said less had she been Griselda, fresh from her native cottage and about to become the bride of the prince without their consent and altogether without their will. But the day was Sunday, and perhaps those distinguished personages were reluctant to indulge in too much expansion of feeling on the sacred day. On the following day, Monday, Greenwich was as much alive as it used to be on a fine fair-day: for the princess dined in public, and all the world was there to see her. That is to say, she and the prince dined together in an apartment the windows of which were thrown open ‘to oblige the curiosity of the people;’ and it is only to be hoped that the springs of the period were not such inclement seasons as those generally known by the name of spring to us. The people having stared their fill, and the princess having banqueted as comfortably as she could under such circumstances, the Prince of Wales took her down to the water, led her into a gaily decorated barge, and slowly up the river went the lovers--with horns playing, streamers flying, and under a fusillade from old stocks of old guns, the modest artillery of colliers and Other craft anxious to render to the pair the usual noisy honours of the way. They returned to Greenwich in like manner, similarly honoured, and there, having supped in public, the prince kissed her hand, took his leave, and promised to return upon the morrow.