The Assembly of States had decided the day before that the king by whom
the land had been so wonderfully extended, and whose government had been
so prosperous that not even a shadow of misfortune had fallen across it,
should be called: "Wendelin the Lucky."

This title of honour was to be seen on all the flags, triumphal arches,
transparencies, and even on the ginger-bread cakes in the cook-shops.

George and his lovely wife rejoiced with the other jubilant people, but
they were happiest when they were alone with his mother.

Wendelin XVI. received his brother and his brother's wife in the great
reception room, and even went further forward to meet him than the point
prescribed by the master of ceremonies; the queen made good this
violation of etiquette by remaining herself well within the boundaries
laid down. After the feast Wendelin went with his brother onto the
balcony, and as he stood opposite to George and looked at him more
closely he let his languid eyelids droop, for it seemed to him that his
brother was a man of iron, and he suddenly felt as if his own backbone
were made of dough.

In the evening the lake was beautifully illuminated, and the day was to
end with a boating party on the water enlivened with music and fireworks.

In the first boat, on cushions of velvet and ermine, sat Wendelin XVI.
and his queen, in the second George and his beloved wife. His mother
could not bear to be separated from these two, or to miss for even an
hour the happiness of having them with her.