“Hush, dear, I don’t know,” said the Royal Nurse. “But I want him to come and play with me,” demanded His Royal Highness, “and that Soldier man, too.” “My dear, you must be a good boy and come with Nurse. Perhaps another day the little boy will be allowed to play with you,” said the Royal Nurse, trying to lead him along. “But I want him to come now, Nurse dear,” persisted the little Prince. “If His Royal Highness desires it,” suggested the Busybody in Extraordinary, “you had better let the boy accompany you to the Palace. When His Royal Highness is made King to-morrow, you know, his wishes will have to be obeyed absolutely.” So Boy and One-and-Nine were told to follow the others into the Palace, which joined the House of Words, and which was a very magnificent place. A large crowd of Servants were in the Hall, and outside Boy could hear shouts of “Long live the King! Long live the King!” For the news of the little Prince’s arrival had travelled quickly, and the people were all delighted to welcome a grandson of the late King, who had been greatly beloved, notwithstanding a very awkward circumstance about a Portmanteau, which, perhaps, I will tell you later on. The little Prince and the Royal Nurse were conducted up the grand staircase, the Prince turning around to Boy and saying, “Good-night, little Boy, I’m sleepy tired now, but I shall see you to-morrow,” while Boy and One-and-Nine were led in another direction to a suite of rooms overlooking a beautiful garden. Here they were served with a bountiful supper by a Footman, who had been set apart to wait upon them only. His name, Boy found out, was Cæsar Maximilian Augustus Claudius Smith, but he was called Thomas for short. Thomas was a very nice man, Boy thought, and although he seemed to think a great deal of himself he was very kind to them. After they had finished supper and Thomas had cleared away the supper things, Boy noticed that One-and-Nine seemed very quiet. “Is there anything the matter?” he asked anxiously. “I am afraid,” remarked One-and-Nine sadly, “that she will never condescentionise to affectionate me.” “Who?” exclaimed Boy. “That majestuous lady, the Royal Nurse,” said One-and-Nine, sighing sentimentally. “You don’t mean to say that you have fallen in love with her, surely?” said Boy, feeling greatly inclined to laugh. “Who could help it?” declared the Wooden Soldier. “I am completely smot!” [Illustration: 0114] “Smot! What’s that?” asked Boy. “Smite, smitten, smot,” exclaimed One-and-Nine. “And what a charmaceous name, too,” he continued--“Martha Matilda Nimpky. How lovelyish! Do you think she cares for me even a smallish bit?” “Well, I’m afraid she scarcely saw you, you know,” said Boy. “Perhaps she will when she knows you better,” he added, wishing to comfort the poor lovesick soldier.