significant grimaces at me.

I knew well enough that it was no other than the Prince of Wales. He
was terribly ugly and fond of teasing, but in a good-natured way,
always leaving off when he saw he was giving real pain, and I liked
him much better than his brother, the Duke of York, who was proud and
sullen. Yet one could always trust the Duke, and that could not be
said for the Prince.

By the time we had slowly advanced up the grand staircase into the
banqueting-hall, and had made our reverences to the king and queen--
ah, how stately and beautiful they looked together!--the Prince had
stepped in some other way, and stood beside me.

'Well, Meg,' he said, in an undertone--'I beg pardon, Mrs. Margaret--
decked out in all her splendour, a virgin for the sacrifice!'

'What sacrifice, sir?' I asked, startled.

'Eh!' he said. 'You do not know that le futur is arrived!'

'She knows nothing, your Highness,' said Eustace.

'What, oh, what is there to know?' I implored the Prince and my
brother in turn to inform me, for I saw that there was some earnest
in the Prince's jests, and I knew that the queen and my mother were
looking out for a good match for me in France.

'Let me show him to you,' presently whispered the Prince, who had
been called off by his father to receive the civilities of an