“If I were King,” said Francis, who was now thoroughly roused, “there should never be any more wars. There are plenty of things to be brave about without hurting other brave people—exploring and rescuing and saving your comrades in mines and in fires and floods and things and—” his eloquence suddenly gave way to a breathless shyness—“oh, well,” he ended, “it’s no use gassing; you know what I mean.”
“Yes,” said Mavis, “and oh, France—I think you’re right. But what can we do?”
“I shall ask to see the Queen of the Under Folk, and try to make her see sense. She didn’t look an absolute duffer.”
They all gasped at the glorious and simple daring of the idea. But the Mer Princess said:
“I know you’d do everything you could—but it’s very difficult to talk to kings unless you’ve been accustomed to it. There are books in the cave, Straight Talks with Monarchs, and Kings I Have Spoken My Mind To, which might help you. But, unfortunately, we can’t get them. You see, Kings start so much further than subjects do: they know such a lot more. Why, even I—”
“Then why won’t you try talking to the Queen?”
“I shouldn’t dare,” said Freia. “I’m only a girl-Princess. Oh, if only my dear Father could talk to her. If he believed it possible that war could cease ... he could persuade anybody of anything. And, of course, they would start on the same footing—both Monarchs, you know.”
“I see: like belonging to the same club,” said Francis vaguely.
“But, of course, as things are, my royal Father thinks of nothing but shells—if only we could restore his memory....”
“I say,” said Bernard suddenly, “does that Keep-your-Memory charm work backward?”