But nobody slapped the baby--it was soothed; and, besides, all the slaps hand could bestow would not bring back the prince's lost beauty. His face was all the colours of the rainbow now; the yellow of his curls had run into his forehead, his brown eyes were smudged across his nose, and his cherry lips smeared upon his cheeks, while all the blue of his doublet had spread up to his chin. He knew from what they were all saying that this had happened to him, but he did not mind it much, except at first; he had never been vain of his beauty, and it was delightful to hear Mabel's little tender laments over his misfortune; so long as she cared for him as he was--what did anything else matter? In the schoolroom that morning he leaned against her writing-desk, and watched her turning fat books lazily over and inking her fair little hands, until she shut them all up with an impatient bang and yawned. Why was it that at that precise moment the prince began to feel uncomfortable? 'Is it near dinner-time, Miss Pringle?' she asked. 'I'm so awfully hungry!' The governess's watch showed an hour more to wait. 'I wonder if Comfitt would give me some cake if I ran down and asked her!' said Mabel next. The governess thought Mabel had much better wait patiently till dinner-time without spoiling her appetite. 'Oh, very well,' said Mabel; 'what a bore it is to be hungry too soon, isn't it?' Then she took the faded prince up and looked at him mournfully. 'What a shame of Baby!' she said; 'I wanted to keep him always to look at--but I don't see how I can very well now, do you, Miss Pringle? Do they make these things only for ornament, should you think?' 'I think it is time you finished that exercise,' was all the governess replied. 'Oh, I've almost done it,' said Mabel, 'and I want just to ask this question (it comes under "general information," you know)--aren't vegetable colours "dilly-whatever-it-is" colours I mean--harmless? And Dr. Harley said vegetables were so very good for me. I wonder if I might just _taste_ him.' Here the prince's dream ended: he saw it all at last--how she had petted and praised him only while he was pleasant to look at; and now that was over--he was nothing more to her than something to eat. Presently he was lifted gently between her slim finger and thumb to her lips, and touched caressingly by something red and moist and warm behind them. It was not unpleasant exactly, so far, but he knew that worse was coming, and longed for her to make haste and get it over. 'Vanilla!' reported Mabel, 'that _must_ be all right, Miss Pringle. Cook flavours corn-flour with it!' Miss Pringle shrugged her sharp shoulders: 'You must use your own judgment, my dear,' was all she said.