CROWNED HEADS
"'Pon my word, my love," Mr. Stimpson exclaimed, as his wife came
out of her pavilion in her Coronation Robes and chain, attended
by the Court Godmother, "I should hardly have known you! You look
majestic!--abso-lute-ly majestic!"
"I wish I could say the same of _you_, Sidney," she replied; "but, as I
have told you more than once, legs like yours never ought to be seen
except in trousers.... Considering my own and my daughter's robes are
ready-made, Mrs. Fogleplug, they might be worse. As for Miss
Heritage's--well, I should have thought myself that something simpler
would have been more appropriate."
Daphne was naturally much less sumptuously dressed than the Members of
the Royal family, but still, in her quaint double-peaked head-dress,
fantastically slashed bodice, and long hanging sleeves, with her bright
hair, too, waving loosely over her temples, its rich masses confined at
the back by a network of pearls, she was dainty and bewitching enough to
attract more than her due share of attention--Clarence's she attracted
at once, while he was sustained by an agreeable conviction that his
be-jewelled doublet, silken hose, white plumed velvet hat, and azure
mantle set off his figure to unusual advantage.
"Tophole, Miss Heritage!" he said, strolling up with graceful languor.
"I'm not joking--you really _are_, you know! Wish _my_ kit suited me
half as well! Can't help feeling a most awful ass in it, what?"
"Really?" she said carelessly. "How unpleasant for you! But perhaps if
you left off thinking about it----!"
"Oh, I don't say it's so bad as all _that_!"
"I didn't suppose it _was_, quite."
Now this was not by any means the sort of deferential tribute he had
counted upon, and he was a little ruffled by her failure to respond.
"Didn't you," he replied distantly, if somewhat lamely. "You'll excuse
me mentioning it, Miss Heritage, as it's only in your own interests, but
I believe it's considered the proper thing when you're addressed by--by
Royalty, don't you know, to throw in a 'Your Royal Highness'
occasionally. Of course, Court Etiquette and that may be all tosh, but I
didn't make it, and all I mean to say is--it won't do to let it slide."
"Your Royal Highness will not have to rebuke me a second time," said
Daphne, sinking to the ground in a curtsey which it is to be feared was
wilfully exaggerated. "I'm afraid, sir," she added, as the two little
creases in her cheeks made themselves visible, "that wasn't as low as it
ought to have been, but your Royal Highness must make allowances for my
want of experience."
"Oh, you'll soon get into it," he said, "with practice."
"And I shall have plenty of that, your Royal Highness."
Was she trying to pull his leg? he thought, as he moved away, and
decided that she was most unlikely to venture on such presumption. No,
it had been necessary to remind her of the deference due to him, and she
would not forget the lesson in future. Perhaps he might unbend
occasionally in private, but, on second thoughts, that would be more
dangerous than ever now.
Ruby had seized Daphne and was embracing her in a burst of violent
affection. "Oh, Miss Heritage, darling," she cried, "you do look such a
duck in that dress--doesn't she, Mummy?"
"I see no resemblance, my dear," said her mother coldly, "between Miss
Heritage and any description of poultry. And, as the procession will be
here in another minute, you had better take your place quietly by me....
Really, Ruby," she added in an undertone, as the child obeyed, "you must
remember you're a Princess now. It isn't at all proper for you to be
seen pawing your governess about in public."
"I _wasn't_ pawing her about, Mums!" protested Ruby; "only hugging her.
And if I mayn't do that, I don't want to be a Princess at all!"
By this time the procession had arrived. It was headed by a band of
knights in resplendent but rather extravagant armour, carrying lances
with streaming pennons. After them rode the Courtiers on gaily
caparisoned steeds, followed by a bevy of Maids of Honour on
cream-coloured palfreys. A company of soldiers came next, some of whom
bore heavy matchlocks of an ancient period, and the rest pikes and
halberds. However, they marched with as proud and confident a step as
though their weapons were of the very latest pattern--which very likely
they thought they were. Following them was a State Coach, a huge,
cumbrous vehicle with unglazed windows; it seemed to be of pure gold,
and was drawn by sixteen milk-white horses in blue trappings.
After the procession had halted, the Court Chamberlain formally
presented the members of the Royal Household, whose mere titles sounded
impressively on the ear of their new Mistress. There were Prince Tapfer
von Schneiderleinheimer and Prince Hansmeinigel; Baron Müllerbürschen,
Baron von Bohnenranken, and Count von Daumerlingstamm; Princess
Rapunzelhauser, Princess Goldernenfingerleinigen, and Princess
Flachspinnenlosburg; Baroness Belohnte von Haulemännerschen, Baroness
Kluge Bauerngrosstochterheimer, and Countess Gänsehirten am Brunnen, and
many others scarcely less distinguished. Never before had Mrs.
Wibberley-Stimpson been in such aristocratic company, and for the moment
she entirely forgot how immeasurably she was now their social superior.
She had held her own triumphantly with Lady Harriet, but that was
different. There was only one of _her_--and that one a quite ordinary
and insignificant personality compared with these imposingly splendid
lords and ladies-in-waiting.
Mrs. Stimpson intended to be graciously cordial, but somehow her manner
was dangerously near being obsequious. "Most _honoured_, I'm sure,
Prince!" she found herself repeating, as she ducked instinctively. "So
very kind of you to come, Baron!... It's more than delightful to meet
you, dear Princess--I didn't quite catch your name!... _Such_ a
privilege to make your acquaintance, Countess!"
She hoped they would take this as condescension on her part, and they
were undeniably surprised by their Sovereign's excessive affability.
"Well," said Mr. Stimpson, as these amenities became exhausted and he
perceived that no one was taking any notice of him, "what about making a
start, hey, Mr. Marshal?"
"If your Majesties and the Princess will deign to enter the coach, we
can set forth at once," was the reply.
"Get in, children, get in!" cried Mrs. Wibberley-Stimpson. "You and
Ruby, Edna, must sit with your backs to the horses, and there will be
plenty of room for Clarence between you."
"With all respect, Sir," said the Marshal, as Clarence was preparing to
get in. "It is the custom on such an occasion as this for the Crown
Prince to ride on the right of the Coach. I have arranged that a horse
shall be at your Royal Highness's service."
"Thanks awfully," said Clarence, as he glanced at a spirited chestnut
mare which two squires were endeavouring with some difficulty to soothe,
"but--er--I think I'd rather drive." He was reflecting, as he took his
seat in the coach, that he would really have to take a few riding
lessons shortly, in private.
"Isn't Miss Heritage coming with us, Mummy?" called Ruby from the
window.
"In the State Coach, my dear! Of course not!"
"But why not, Mater?" protested Clarence. "There's lots of room."
"Because I could not think of allowing it, Clarence. Perhaps Mrs.
Fogleplug will be kind enough to give her a lift in--in her own
conveyance."
"Unfortunately," replied the Court Godmother, "my car will not hold more
than one person."
"Well, Miss Heritage must find her way to the Palace, then! There's no
necessity for her to be present at the Coronation."
"Surely, my dear," said the Fairy, "you would not deprive her of such a
privilege! I will have another saddle placed on that mare so that this
fair maid of yours may ride with your other ladies in waiting."
"Of course, Mrs. Fogleplug, if you're _bent_ on Miss Heritage making a
public exhibition of herself," said Mrs. Wibberley-Stimpson, "I have
nothing to say. I don't suppose she has ever been on a horse in her
life!"
"Oh, but I have, Ma'am!" Daphne pleaded eagerly. "I've ridden ever since
I was a child. And I'd love to ride that mare, if I may!"
"Oh, very _well_, Miss Heritage, ve-ry well. But remember, if you break
your neck, _I_ shall not accept any responsibility," which Daphne took
as a permission. As soon as Mr. and Mrs. Wibberley-Stimpson had taken
their seats, the sixteen milk-white horses began to pull and strain till
eventually the great coach was on the way.
"Mummy," cried Ruby a little later, "I can see Miss Heritage! She's
riding close behind. And oh, she _does_ look so sweet on horseback!"
"Put your head in,--do, child!" said her mother sharply. "Whatever will
the people think if they see a Princess hanging half out of the window
like that!"
Ruby sat down rather sullenly. Clarence would have liked to put his own
head out if it had been consistent with his dignity as a Prince. As it
was, he could only hope that Daphne would come to no harm. "Really!"
continued Mrs. Wibberley-Stimpson, "what with one's governess riding
behind one's coach, and those two ridiculous bird-cars probably flapping
overhead, this is _quite_ unlike any Coronation Procession _I_ ever
heard of!"
"More like a bally Circus," remarked Clarence. "Only wants a couple of
clowns with bladders on horseback and a performing elephant."
"_I_ consider," said his mother, "that a State procession should have
more solemnity about it.... How horribly this coach jolts! It _can't_
have any springs!... There you are again, Edna, buried in that
note-book! you might show a little interest in what is going on!"
"I'm sorry, mother, but it all seems to mean so little to me."
"Then all I can say is--good gracious, _what_ a lurch! I quite thought
we were over!--all _I_ can say is that it's unnatural to be so
abstracted as you are. We're getting close to Eswar--whatever they call
it. If you look round you will see the walls and towers."
Edna adapted her _pince-nez_ and turned perfunctorily for a moment.
"_Quite_ quaint!" she said, and resumed her reading.
"Picturesque, _I_ should call it," corrected her mother. "Sidney,
doesn't it put you in mind of dear lovely Lucerne?"
"Very much so, my love," he replied, "or--er--Venice" (neither of which
cities, as a matter of fact, did Eswareinmal resemble in the least).
"Hullo! what are we stopping for _now_, eh?"
It seemed they had arrived at the principal gates of the Capital, where
the Burgomaster and other civic dignitaries were assembled to welcome
and to do them homage, which they did with every sign of respect and
loyalty. As Mrs. Wibberley-Stimpson felt unequal to the efforts of
responding, that duty devolved on her husband, who presented himself at
the window of the coach, and made what the reporters, had any been
present, would no doubt have described as "a few gracious and
appropriate remarks."
"You needn't have said that about 'doing our best to give satisfaction,'
Sidney!" complained his wife after the coach had thundered over the
drawbridge, and was lumbering under the massive archway into a narrow
and crowded street, "for all the world as if we had been a butler and
housekeeper applying for a situation!"
"It _was_ a little unfortunate, perhaps, my dear," he admitted; "but it
is so difficult to know what to say when one has to speak impromptu."
"It ought to be easy enough to know what _not_ to say," she retorted.
"Dear me, what hosts of people!" she went on, as her irritation merged
into complacency. "And _how_ pleased they all seem to see us! But no
doubt, after a bachelor Regent, a whole Royal family--I love to see
their happy smiling faces!"
"Grinning mugs would be nearer the mark, Mater," said Clarence; "never
saw such a chuckle-headed lot of bumpkins in my life!"
"I will thank you to remember, Clarence," she replied, "that they are my
loyal subjects, and will be _yours_ at some time to come."
"I can _wait_ for 'em," he said; "and if they're so jolly loyal, why
ain't they cheering more?"
Slowly the golden coach progressed through winding streets of gabled or
step-roofed houses with toppling overhanging stories, then along one
side of a great square, packed with people in costume, the women
recalling to Mrs. Stimpson's mind, quite inappropriately, the waitresses
at the Rigi Kulm hotel on a Sunday. Then, through more narrow streets,
to a smaller square, where it stopped at some steps leading to the huge
West portal of a magnificent buttressed Church.
"All change here--for the Coronation!" said Clarence. "I'd better nip
out first, eh, Mater?"
"Your father and I get out first, naturally, Clarence," said Mrs.
Wibberley-Stimpson, and descended majestically, Mr. Stimpson following
with somewhat less effect owing to an attack of cramp in his left leg.
Four small pages stepped forward in pairs to carry Mr. and Mrs.
Stimpson's trains, which they found a distinct convenience, and, hand in
hand, they passed through the great, elaborately niched and statued
doorway into the nave. The interior was thronged by all the notables of
Märchenland, including the venerable President of the Council and his
Councillors. Above, the light struck in shafts through the painted
windows of the clerestory, tinging the haze of incense fumes with faint
colours. On the high altar twinkled innumerable tapers. "_Roman!_ as I
suspected!" whispered Mrs. Wibberley-Stimpson on seeing them, and
sniffing the scented atmosphere. (She had attended St. John's at
Gablehurst, because the vicar, although Evangelical, was well-known to
be of good family.) Under a crimson canopy in the choir were two golden
chairs which they understood they were expected to sit upon, and
occupied accordingly. A mitred and coped ecclesiastic, who appeared to
be some kind of Bishop, then shepherded them benevolently through a
series of mystic rites that, besides being hopelessly unintelligible,
seemed unreasonably protracted. However, they reached the climax at
last, and amidst the tumultuous acclamations of the spectators the
previously anointed heads of King Sidney and Queen Selina, as they must
henceforth be described, received their respective crowns.
"Ha, well," remarked King Sidney, when he and the rest of the Royal
family were once more in the coach, and on their way towards the palace
that was to be their future home, "we got through it most successfully
on the whole. Perhaps the Bishop was a little too lavish with the
anointing part of the ceremony. Still, taken altogether, it was--ah--a
very solemnising affair."
"It would have been more so, Sidney," said the Queen, "if you hadn't
kept on dropping your sceptre and tripping over your train. I don't
wonder the Bishop got flustered. But I do wish we could have had it
properly done by the dear Archbishop of Canterbury!"
"Bit out of his diocese, Märchenland, what?" said the Crown Prince.
"I'm aware of that, Clarence; and, of course, we're legally crowned,
whoever did it.... Sidney, it's only just struck me, but I'm sure we
ought to be bowing. Bow, children, all of you--take the time from me.
Sidney, why aren't _you_ bowing?"
"I can't, my love. It's difficult enough to keep my crown on as it is!"
"You can hold it on with one hand, can't you? You simply _must_ bow if
you don't want to be unpopular! So must _you_, children. Keep _on_ with
it!"
"Give us a rest, Mater," said Prince Clarence, after they had been
nodding like Chinese mandarins for some minutes. "My neck's beginning to
wilt already!"
Queen Selina herself was not sorry to stop. "It's certainly very
fatiguing at first," she admitted; "we must practise it together in
private.... Was that old Mrs. Fogleplug's dove-chariot that passed us
just now? I'm afraid I shall have to put her in her place. She's rather
inclined to forget herself--not only addressed me as 'my dear,' but
actually attempted to kiss me after the Coronation!"
"So she did _me_!" said the Princess Royal, "but I hope I showed that I
thought she was taking a liberty."
"She's a very worthy, well-meaning old creature, no doubt," remarked the
Queen; "still, a Fairy Godmother in these days is really _rather_--I
shall have to get her to retire--on a pension."
"She'll stick on," said Prince Clarence, "you see if she don't. Means to
boss the whole show."
"I shall soon let her see that I intend to be mistress in my own
Kingdom," said the Queen. "I could wish, I must say, that it was just a
little more up to date! Everything so dreadfully behind the times! I
haven't seen a shop yet with a plate-glass front, and not a single
pillar-box!"
"Poor sort of place for Suffragettes, what?" observed Clarence.
"Frivolity apart, Clarence," remarked the Queen, "I can see already that
there is much to be done here before the country can be called really
civilised. We must set ourselves to raise the standard by introducing
modern ideas--enlighten people's minds, and all the rest of it. And you
must do _your_ share, Sidney, as I shall do mine."
"Certainly," said the King; "I'm agreeable. All for progress myself.
Always have been.... I fancy that must be our Palace up there. A truly
palatial residence--replete, I've no doubt, with every convenience we
can require."
The State Coach, after making a leisurely circuit of the two sides of
the principal square, was now beginning the ascent of the steep zigzag
road to the Palace, which stood on the terraced height of the plateau
that commanded the city. The party in the coach caught glimpses of its
massive but ornate towers with fantastic spires and turrets, and its
great arched and columned wings of rose-tinted marble. As it was rather
larger than Windsor Castle, King Sidney's commendation was fairly
justified.
But Queen Selina's mind was occupied in computing the probable number of
rooms, and the maids that would be required to "do" them, while she
wondered aloud whether they could possibly afford to keep such a place
up.
"Depend upon it, my dear," said the King, "the--ah--State will provide
an ample allowance for all our expenses. I must go into that as soon as
an opportunity occurs, and find out exactly what our income will be."
Little more was said after this, as the great coach creaked and groaned
slowly up the winding road, and then rolled through the golden gates
into the courtyard of the Palace.
On the steps of the chief entrance were Marshal Federhelm, Baron von
Eisenbänden, and the Court Godmother, who, with the rest of the Royal
household, had hastened on ahead to receive them. The Marshal ushered
them into the Hall of Entrance, which was immense and cool. There they
found the ladies and gentlemen-in-waiting drawn up in curtseying and
bowing ranks. The colours of their gay costumes would have been
dazzling, had they not been somewhat toned down by the subdued light
from the windows, which were paned with transparent agate set in
tracery of a flamboyant type. At the back rose a colossal staircase of
jasper. On either side were lofty doors leading to vestibules,
corridors, and reception halls.
Judged by Gablehurst standards, the general effect of the interior was
hardly 'home-y' or cosy enough to be perfectly satisfactory, as Queen
Selina seemed to feel, for the only comment she made was: "_No_ china
punch-bowl for visiting-cards, I see!"
"I say," the Crown Prince inquired of the Marshal, "who's the small
sportsman in the extinguisher hat?" he referred to an unassuming little
man with long, lint-coloured hair and pale, prominent eyes, whose
shiftiness was only partly concealed by large horn spectacles. He wore
black and crimson robes embroidered in gold with Zodiacal signs. "Looks
like the Editor of Old Moore's Almanack."
"That, Sir," replied the Marshal, "is the learned Xuriel, our Astrologer
Royal. Will your Majesties permit me to present him?" And, the Royal
assent being given, he went across to fetch the sage.
"Xuriel, my friend," he said in his ear, with a slightly ironical
intonation, "the august Sovereigns who owe their discovery to your
learning and research are naturally anxious to express their
acknowledgements. So come along and be presented, and perhaps you will
produce a better impression if you can manage to look a little less like
a hare with the ear-ache."
It was not, however, the prospect of being presented to Royalty that was
disturbing the Astrologer Royal, but an unpleasant suspicion that the
ex-Regent was, for some reason or other, a little annoyed with him.
"Your Majesties will be interested to hear," explained the Marshal,
after making the presentation, "that Master Xuriel was at one time
noted for his skill as a magician."
"My studies in Magic were never carried very far, your Majesties,"
protested the Astrologer, wriggling uncomfortably. "I--I did very little
at it. And, even before it was decreed that all enchanters and sorcerers
should either leave the Kingdom or take up some other profession, I had
discovered that astrology was my true vocation."
"And you were right," said the Marshal heartily, "as results have shown.
And doubtless there is no truth in the rumour that you still retain some
proficiency in the Black Art."
"Absolutely none, your Majesties!" the Astrologer Royal declared. "What
small skill I ever possessed, I have already forgotten; all my magic
spells have long since been discarded."
"So I should hope," said Queen Selina severely. "Mr. Wibber--I mean, his
Majesty and I are, of course, no believers in Magic, but we are
determined not to allow any superstitions practices here in future--are
we not, Sidney?"
"Certainly, my dear, certainly. Most undesirable. Of course, we don't
object to ordinary conjuring--anything harmless of that sort. But take
my advice, Sir, and stick to Astrology for the future--much more
gentlemanly pursuit!"
The Astrologer Royal promised to observe this recommendation, and just
then the Court Chamberlain announced that a meal had been prepared for
the Royal Family in the King's Parlour, to which he offered to conduct
them at once. And, as the lengthy business of the Coronation had given
them all excellent appetites, they readily welcomed the proposal.
Princess Ruby, catching sight of Daphne in one of the groups, had begged
that she might be included, which the Queen reluctantly granted as an
exceptional indulgence.
Daphne would gladly have excused herself had that been possible; she was
becoming painfully conscious of finding Mrs. Wibberley-Stimpson as a
Queen irresistibly ludicrous. Once already that morning she had only
just escaped detection, and she was horribly afraid now that something
might happen which would lead her to betray herself by unseemly
laughter. She could only pray inwardly that it would not, as she
followed with Ruby to the King's Parlour.
This was a lofty hall with windows opening on to the terrace; the walls
were composed of great slabs of malachite, and twisted columns of the
same supported a ceiling of elaborately carved pink jade. At one end was
a dais, where a table was spread with what King Sidney referred to
somewhat disappointedly as "a cold snack," though he did it ample
justice nevertheless.
The Marshal sat on his right hand; at his back stood the Court
Chamberlain, while chubby-faced little pages served cakes of bread on
bended knee, and filled the golden goblets with Märchenland's choicest
wines, which the King considered "a trifle on the sour side." The Royal
Household looked on from a distance--to the exquisite discomfort of the
Queen.
"I really can't enjoy my food, Sidney," she complained in an undertone,
"with every mouthful I take watched by all those members of the
nobility!"
Suddenly she coloured with annoyance as she found she was being
addressed in a gruff, strangled voice from a quarter it was difficult at
first to locate. "Mr. Troitz," she demanded, "_who_ is that
ill-mannered person who seems to be trying to talk to Me with his mouth
full?"
"The voice, your Majesty," he replied in the most matter-of-fact tone,
"appears to proceed from the boar's head."
"How dare you try to impose on me by such a story? It's that wretched
little astrologer man. Ventriloquism and Conjuring always go together,
and I'll be bound he's underneath the table now!... Well," she said,
after she had satisfied herself by looking, "if he's not there, he's
somewhere in the room!"
The Court Chamberlain assured her that the Astrologer Royal was not only
absent, but incapable of such a liberty; it really _was_ the boar's head
that had spoken, as animals in Märchenland would on rare occasions--even
after suffering decapitation.
"There was Falada, Mummy," cried Ruby eagerly. "Don't you remember? The
horse that talked poetry after its head had been cut off and nailed over
the arch! Miss Heritage can tell you all about it."
But Miss Heritage could not--she was far too deeply engaged in wrestling
with an inward demon of unholy mirth that threatened at any moment to
gain the mastery.
The head began again. But whatever felicitations, predictions, or
warning it was striving to utter were rendered practically inarticulate
by a large lemon that had been unfeelingly inserted between its jaws.
"Have the boar's head removed at once, Mr. Troitz," ordered Queen
Selina. "I cannot and will not have it interrupting the conversation
like this. It couldn't happen at all in any _civilised_ country. Why,
we shall have the cold tongue beginning next, I suppose!..."
It was here that poor Daphne's demon got the upper hand.
"You seem slightly hysterical, Miss Heritage," remarked the Queen.
"Horse-exercise evidently has a very bad effect on your nerves, and I
must forbid you to ride in future."
Thus was Daphne punished for her breach of etiquette. But Queen Selina
had no suspicion, even then, of its real extent. She was incapable of
conceiving that she could possibly seem ridiculous to one so infinitely
her inferior.