All these reflections had presented themselves to the minds of King Ozymandias and his Queen, and neither of them could deny that they were in a most awkward situation. They were ‘talking it over’ for the hundredth time on the palace terrace where the pomegranates and oleanders grew in green tubs and the marble balustrade is overgrown with roses, red and white and pink and yellow. On the lower terrace the royal nurse was walking up and down with the baby princess that all [p98 the fuss was about. The Queen’s eyes followed the baby admiringly.
‘The darling!’ she said. ‘Oh, Ozymandias, don’t you sometimes wish we’d been poor people?’
‘Never!’ said the King decidedly.
‘Well, I do,’ said the Queen; ‘then we could have had just you and me and your sister at the christening, and no fear of—oh! I’ve thought of something.’
The King’s patient expression showed that he did not think it likely that she would have thought of anything useful; but at the first five words his expression changed. You would have said that he pricked up his ears, if kings had ears that could be pricked up. What she said was—
‘Let’s have a secret christening.’
‘How?’ asked the King.
The Queen was gazing in the direction of the baby with what is called a ‘far away look’ in her eyes.
‘Wait a minute,’ she said slowly. ‘I see it all—yes—we’ll have the party in the cellars—you know they’re splendid.’
‘My great-grandfather had them built by Lancashire men, yes,’ interrupted the King.