"I wish I remembered my mother," said Hyacinth.
The King coughed and looked at her a little nervously.
"Seventeen years ago she died, Hyacinth, when you were only six months old. I have been wondering lately whether I haven't been a little remiss in leaving you motherless so long."
The Princess looked puzzled. "But it wasn't your fault, dear, that mother died."
"Oh, no, no, I'm not saying that. As you know, a dragon carried her off and—well, there it was. But supposing"—he looked at her shyly—"I had married again."
The Princess was startled.
"Who?" she asked.
The King peered into his flagon. "Well," he said, "there are people."
"If it had been somebody very nice," said the Princess wistfully, "it might have been rather lovely."
The King gazed earnestly at the outside of his flagon.