The Missing Prince

“Expensive Sir,” it began.

“I wonder whatever he means?” thought boy. “Oh! I see, ‘expensive’ is his way of writing ‘dear.’”

“Expensive Sir,

“This comes hopping that you are most healthful, as it leaves me at present. You will be joyed to hear that I am about to be matrimonialized to a Zuluish lady of the richest colour – with movable joints. That Majestuous lady the Royal Nurse having declined me with much pleasure, has offered to be sisterish to me; but the Zuluish lady objects, so I have had to separationize myself from the Majestuous one with considerable distance. Before we parted I begged for one of those most twistful corkscrew curls as a keepsake, and she extravaganteously presentuated me with the lot – they fasten behind the head with considerable stringiness, or it may be even black tapeishness; it is hard to tell which is what in this life.

“The Prince of Whales has given me a new coat – of paint – and as my Zuluish lady dresses with much simpleness, we shall doubtfully domesticate with great happiness.

“Please give my devotionated affection to that Majestuous lady, and say I will think of her with much continuation and perpetuation, and also the curls, which shall never leave my head – as it leaves her at present.

“Yours contentuously,

“One-and-Nine

“N.B. – She had another set in her box”

“I suppose he means another set of curls,” thought Boy, “which would account for the change in Mrs. Martha Matilda Nimpky’s appearance. Well, I’m sure I hope that One-and-Nine will be happy with his Zulu bride. What a funny chap he is, to be sure!”

Later on in the day the Prince and Princess and the little King held a reception, to which all the principal inhabitants of Zum were invited, and, of course, all the Court dignitaries were present. The Public Rhymester was also there, through the influence of his friend the Advertiser General.

The Prince made a speech from the Terrace, in which he informed the people that he should, of course, take the reins of office himself now, and would do his best, when King of the Country, to promote the welfare of his subjects.

The Princess was most popular too, and by her beauty and condescension captivated all hearts.

In the evening there was an al fresco concert in the beautiful Palace gardens, which were brilliantly illuminated for the occasion. Amongst the items on the programme were some songs by the “Pierrot Troupe,” and Boy anxiously wondered if his Pierrot would be amongst them. To his great delight he found that he was, and when he stepped forward with his banjo, and began the well-known tune to “The Little Tin Soldier,” Boy applauded vigorously. The words, however, were quite different, and went somehow like this —

THE MARRIED TIN SOLDIER

One night as I paused by the Nursery door,
And looked at the scattered toys,
I said to myself, “Was there ever before
Such troublesome girls and boys?”

And then as I hurried to gather them up,
I heard a wee voice complain,
“Oh! sorry am I that I ever was wed,
And would I were single again!”

On the ground at my feet lay a soldier red,
And I think he was made of tin,
And I noticed the paint on the top of his head
Was getting remarkably thin.

And I asked him why, at that hour of the night,
He was making that horrible noise;
And I told him to stop and behave like a man,
Or like other respectable toys.

“Oh! how would you like it yourself,” quoth he,
“To be married to such a wife;
To be treated as no loving husband should be,
And be plagued almost out of your life?

She carries on with the other toys,
She’s extravagant and vain;
No wonder,” he said, “that I’m sorry I wed
And long to be single again.”

“It’s all very well,” said another voice,
“But he’s just as bad as me,
And he needn’t have wed, for I had my choice
Of many as good as he.”

And a waxen doll, in a dress of blue
That was rather the worse for wear,
Looked up from under our Baby’s shoe
With a discontented air.

“You naughty, naughty toys,” I cried,
“To quarrel now you’re wed.”
And as I packed them side by side
I sadly shook my head.

To think that this man and his wife
To such extremes should go —
How glad I am that in this life
We never quarrel so!

“Dear me!” thought Boy, “I suppose that is the same Dolly-girl and Tin Soldier that he sang about before. Well, One-and-Nine has the best of the bargain after all, if it is true; I must ask Pierrot about it if I get a chance of speaking to him.”

While the concert was still going on a Messenger arrived from the King of Limesia saying that he was very pleased to have his Portmanteau again, and that he had quite forgiven his daughter for marrying the Prince now, and wished them every joy and happiness; and sent them as a peace-offering a number of Flying Machines, which had just been invented by one of his subjects, and which were most popular at Limesia.

“Flying is now the popular craze of the day in our land,” explained the Messenger, “and the Park is reserved certain hours in the day for the convenience of ‘Flyists.’ Ladies now hold their ‘At Homes’ at the top of the highest trees, and Flying Tours are all the rage.”

The machines, of which forty or fifty were sent, were very simple, and consisted of two large silk and whalebone wings, fastened on to the back with straps. Another strap was fastened at the wrist, and by flapping one’s arms about it was possible to fly quite comfortably.

His Absolute Nothingness the Public Rhymester had to try one first.

“For,” as the Lord High Adjudicator explained, “if he is killed it doesn’t matter in the least.”

He got on very well, though, and then some of the others ventured to try them, and amused themselves and the rest of the Company by flying up into the trees and down again. Boy tried a pair, but thought them very clumsy. I suppose that really they were too big for him.

“Not so comfortable as sailing in the Moon, is it?” said a voice by his side, and looking around Boy beheld Pierrot with his banjo under his arm.

“Oh, how do you do?” cried Boy, holding out his hand. “I’m so glad to meet you again.”

“How have you been enjoying yourself?” asked Pierrot.