That sniff was fatal, for he scented a mouse somewhere!
The room was hung with red and gold, and surrounded with glittering mirrors. There was a rustle of silks and satins. On every side were court lords and ladies dressed in all their gorgeous splendour. Fans fluttered, feathers nodded, diamonds sparkled in all directions. Over all floated a strain of delicious dreamy music. At the end of the long room, up six red-carpeted steps was the Queen's golden chair of state. On it sat the Queen herself, smiling graciously. She was dressed in white and blazing with jewels, and she had a crown of gold upon her head.
It was Thomas' great opportunity! Who knows but that if he had walked sedately up to the Queen and asked her hand in marriage that she might not have consented, and then he might have turned into a Prince, and been King of England! Yes, it was certainly Thomas' opportunity.
That fatal sniff!
He never saw the splendid room. He never saw the beautiful ladies and the gorgeous dresses. Worse than all, he never saw the Queen herself at all. All thoughts of being a Prince had flown out of his head. As though he had been bewitched, he had only one idea.
There was a mouse somewhere!
He was no longer Thomas the Prince in Disguise, he was only Thomas "the good mouser."
He crept forward cautiously, sniffing as he went, and slid noiselessly up to the Queen's great chair. Yes, there was the mouse peeping out from behind one of the golden legs. Thomas sprang forward.
"What is that cat doing here?" called out the Queen. "Send him out of the room immediately."
A dozen hands were stretched forward to seize the unfortunate Thomas. He saw the mouse run like a dart towards a hole in the wall. He dashed after it.