He said, ‘You dear!’ again, and kissed her hands.
‘Why wouldn’t you be married on a Sunday?’ she asked.
‘It’s the curse, dearest,’ he explained, ‘I couldn’t tell any one but you. The fact is Malevola wasn’t asked to my christening so she doomed me to be … well, she said “moderately good-looking all the week, and too ugly for words on Sundays.” So you see! You will be married on a week-day, won’t you?’
‘But I can’t,’ said the Princess, ‘because I’ve got a curse too—only I’m ugly all the week and pretty on Sundays.’
‘How extremely tiresome,’ said the Prince, ‘but can’t you be cured?’
[p174]
‘Oh yes,’ said the Princess, and told him how. ‘And you,’ she asked, ‘is yours quite incurable?’
‘Not at all,’ he answered, ‘I’ve only got to stay under water for five minutes and the spell will be broken. But you see, beloved, the difficulty is that I can’t do it. I’ve practised regularly, from a boy, in the sea, and in the swimming bath, and even in my wash-hand basin—hours at a time I’ve practised—but I never can keep under more than two minutes.’
‘Oh dear,’ said the Princess, ‘this is dreadful.’
‘It is rather trying,’ the Prince answered.
‘You’re sure you like me,’ she asked suddenly, ‘now you know that I’m only pretty once a week?’