“Can your highness ever forgive me?” he asked.
“Forgive you!” she cried in astonishment. “For what, your majesty?”
“For thinking you insane, and for getting you into this horrible predicament,” he replied. “But especially for thinking you insane.”
“Did you think me mad?” she asked in wide-eyed astonishment.
“When you insisted that I was a king, yes,” he replied. “But now I begin to believe that it must be I who am mad, after all, or else I bear a remarkable resemblance to Leopold of Lutha.”
“You do, your majesty,” replied the girl.
Barney saw it was useless to attempt to convince them and so he decided to give up for the time.
“Have me king, if you will,” he said, “but please do not call me ‘your majesty’ any more. It gets on my nerves.”
“Your will is law—Leopold,” replied the girl, hesitating prettily before the familiar name, “but do not forget your part of the compact.”
He smiled at her. A princess wasn’t half so terrible after all.