The King's impatience to see his daughter married increased hourly. Yet the Prince daily put him off with excuses when asked to fix the date of the wedding. At length His Majesty grew angry at the delay.
"It is time," he said to Myra, "that thou wast settled in life. We are old, and in all probability have little longer to live. Thy good lord seemeth all he should be. In grace of form and beauty of face he stands unsurpassed. But methinks, for all that, he means thee ill."
"Indeed, my father, thou art wrong to say so," replied the Princess, with difficulty suppressing her anger. "He is truth itself, and he loves me."
"But he will not marry thee!" the King muttered.
"There, again, thou art mistaken, my lord. He will marry me to-day—at once, so thou stand pleased withal!"
"Bring him before us, then, and let us hear his vow."
Myra made a deep obeisance, and left the King's closet.
Immediately she had gone His Majesty despatched a page to summon the Queen and Council. They were all assembled before Myra entered with her lover. She had not told him for what reason she had been sent in search of him; therefore, when he saw the grave faces of those present, he was surprised. The King rose and addressed him in dignified words, Myra making her way to her royal mother's side.
"Good my lord, our daughter tells us that thou art willing thy nuptials should be celebrated as soon as we consider meet. We have conferred with these grave counsellors, and they think with us that the ceremony should take place to-day."