Once upon a time there was a Royal christening.
It was a very grand christening and the highest in the land were among
the assembled guests. There was more than one Royal Personage present,
and many lords and ladies and ambassadors and plenipotentiaries and
all manner of dignified and imposing people.
For it was a real Princess that was being christened, which is a thing
that does not occur every day in the year.
Quite a number of fairies were there too. Fairies are very fond of
christenings, and there are always a good many of them about on these
occasions.
They were very lavish in their gifts.
One gave the baby beauty; another gave her a sweet and gentle
disposition; another, charm of manner; a fourth, a quick and
intelligent mind. She really was a very fortunate baby, so many
and so varied were the gifts bestowed upon her by the fairy folk.
Last of all came the Fairy Queen.
She arrived late, having come on from a coster's wedding in the East
End of London, a good many miles away.
She was rather breathless and her crown was a little on one side,
indeed her whole appearance was a trifle dishevelled.
"Oh, my dear," she murmured to her chief lady-in-waiting as she
bustled lightly up the aisle, "I've had such a time. It was a charming
wedding. The tinned-salmon was delicious, and there were winkles--and
gin. I only just tasted the gin, of course, for luck, you know,
but really it was very good. I had no idea--And there was a real
barrel-organ, and we danced in the street. The bride had the most
lovely ostrich feathers. The bridegroom was a perfect dear. I kissed
him: I kissed everyone, I think. We all did ... Now what about this
baby?" For by this time they had reached that part of the church where
the ceremony was taking place. "I suppose you've already given her
most of the nice things?"
The lady-in-waiting rapidly enumerated the fairy-gifts which the
fairies had bestowed upon the child.
The Queen looked at the baby.
"What a darling!" she said; "I must give her something very nice." She
hovered a moment over the child's head, "She shall marry the man of
her choice," she said, "and live happily ever after."
There was a little stir among the fairies. The lady-in-waiting laid
her hand on the Queen's arm.
"I'm afraid Your Majesty has forgotten," she said; "this is a Royal
Baby."
"Well," said the Queen, "what of that?"
"You know we rather make it a rule not to interfere in these matters
in the case of Royalty," said the lady-in-waiting. "We generally
leave it to the family. You see they usually prefer to make their own
arrangements. There are reasons. We can give a great deal, but we
can't do _everything_. Besides, it would hardly be fair. They have
so many advantages--"
The Fairy Queen looked round at all the people who were assembled
in the church; she had indeed forgotten for the moment what a very
important occasion this was. Then she looked at the baby.
"I don't care," she said, "I don't care. She's a darling, and she
_shall_ marry the man of her heart. I'm sure it will be someone nice.
You'll see, it'll be all right."
She kissed the baby's forehead, and the little Princess opened wide
her blue eyes and smiled. Several people; noticed it.
"Did you see the baby smile at the Bishop?" they said to one another
afterwards. But then, you see, nobody but the baby could see the Fairy
Queen.
The other fairies were still a little perturbed. They shook their
heads doubtfully and whispered to one another as they floated out of
the church. It wasn't done.
"If only she had made it a King's son," the chief lady-in-waiting
muttered to herself. "That would have made it so much better. But 'the
man of her choice'--so very vague."
The Fairy Queen, however, was quite happy. She laughed at the solemn
faces of her retinue.
"You'll see," she repeated, "it will be quite all right." And she flew
gaily off to Fairyland.
* * * * *
This isn't a fairy story at all. That's the nicest part about it. It
all really happened. And the real name of the Princess--Oh, but I
needn't tell you that. _Everybody_ knows who Princess Charming is.
R.F.
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[Illustration: _Lieut. X._ (_in Paris for the Peace Conference_).
"VOUS FEREZ LE POLISSON AVEC UN PEU DE LINGERIE."]
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