“The rumour of her betrothal it seems is quite without foundation?” “To my nephew: ah alas....” “Prince Yousef and she are of an equal age!” “She is interested in Yousef I’m inclined to believe; but the worst of life is, nearly everyone marches to a different tune,” the Archduchess replied. “One hears of her nothing that isn’t agreeable.” “Like her good mother, Queen Glory,” the Archduchess said, “one feels, of course, she’s all she should be.” Lady Something sighed. “Yes ... and even _more_!” she murmured, letting fall a curtsy to King William who had entered. He had been lunching at the Headquarters of the Girl Guides, and wore the uniform of a general. “What is the acme of nastiness?” he paused of the English Ambassadress to enquire. Lady Something turned paler than the white candytuft that is found on ruins. “Oh _la_, sir,” she stammered, “how should I know!” The King looked the shrinking matron slowly up and down: “The supreme disgust----” “Oh _la_, sir!” Lady Something stammered again. But the King took pity on her evident confusion: “Tepid potatoes,” he answered, “on a stone-cold plate.” The Ambassadress beamed. “I trust the warmth of the girls, sir, compensated you for the coldness of the plates?” she ventured. “The inspection, in the main, was satisfactory! Although I noticed that one or two of the guides, seemed inclined to lead astray,” the King replied, regarding Teddywegs, who was inquisitively sniffing his spurs. “He’s strange yet to everything,” the Archduchess commented. “What’s this--a new dog?” “From Princess Elsie....” “They say she’s stupid, but I do not know that intellect is always a blessing!” the King declared, drooping his eyes to his abdomen, with an air of pensive modesty. “Poor child, she writes she is tied to the shore, so that I suppose she is unable to leave dear England.” “Tied to it?” “And bound till goodness knows.” “As was Andromeda!” the King sententiously exclaimed.... “She would have little, or maybe nothing, to wear,” he clairvoyantly went on: “I see her standing shivering, waiting for Yousef.... Chained by the leg, perhaps, exposed to the howling winds.”[3] “Nonsense. She means to say she can’t get away yet on account of her engagements: that’s all.” “After Cowes-week,” Lady Something put in, “she is due to pay a round of visits before joining her parents in the North.” “How I envy her,” the Archduchess sighed, “amid that entrancing scene....” Lady Something looked _attendrie_. “Your royal highness is attached to England?” she asked. “I fear I was never there.... But I shall always remember I put my hair up when I was twelve years old because of the Prince of Wales.” “Oh? And ... which of the Georges?” Lady Something gasped. “It’s so long ago now that I really forget.” “And pray, ma’am, what was the point of it?” The Archduchess chuckled: “Why, so as to look eligible of course!” she replied, returning to her knitting.