“Is it only my face then that prevents your marrying me?” he asked with abrupt eagerness, and she answered gently, “Of course.”
Then Ulfin sprang to his feet. “Your Majesties,” he cried, “and Lord High Astrologer, has not the moment come when, since we are at a banquet with friends, we may unmask?”
The strangers exchanged wondering glances.
The Sovereigns and the Astrologers made gestures of assent—then, with a rustling and a rattling, helmets were unlaced and corselets unbuckled, the Under Folk seemed to the Mer-people as though they were taking off their very skins. But really what they took off was but their thick scaly armor, and under it they were as softly and richly clad, and as personable people as the Mer Folk themselves.
“But,” said Maia, “how splendid! We thought you were always in armor—that—that it grew on you, you know.”
The Under Folk laughed jollily. “Of course it was always on us—since—when you saw us, we were always at war.”
“And you’re just like us!” said Freia to Ulfin.
“There is no one like you,” he whispered back. Ulfin was now a handsome dark-haired young man, and looked much more like a Prince than a great many real Princes do.
“Did you mean what you said just now?” the Princess whispered. And for answer Ulfin dared to touch her hand with soft firm fingers.