The Countess rose and curtsied deeply.
"Good morning, your Royal Highness."
"Good morning, Countess," said Hyacinth brightly. She liked the Countess (you couldn't help it), but rather wished she didn't.
"Oh, Hyacinth," said the King, "come and tell me about these swords. Which is my magic one?"
Hyacinth looked at him blankly.
"Oh, Father," she said. "I don't know at all. Does it matter very much?"
"My dear child, of course it matters. Supposing I am fighting the King of Barodia and I have my magic sword, then I'm bound to win. Supposing I haven't, then I'm not bound to."
"Supposing you both had magic swords," said Belvane. It was the sort of thing she would say.
The King looked up slowly at her and began to revolve the idea in his mind.
"Well, really," he said, "I hadn't thought of that. Upon my word, I——" He turned to his daughter. "Hyacinth, what would happen if we both had magic swords?"