Meantime the princess, after a long day’s journey, arrived at the palace, and walked up to the sentry at the gate.
“Stand back,” said the sentry.
“I wish to go in, if you please,” said the princess gently.
“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed the sentry, for he was one of those dull people who form their judgment from a person’s clothes, without even looking in his eyes; and as the princess happened to be in rags, her request was amusing, and the booby thought himself quite clever for laughing at her so thoroughly.
“I am the princess,” Rosamond said quietly.
“What princess?” bellowed the man.
“The princess Rosamond. Is there another?” she answered and asked.
But the man was so tickled at the wondrous idea of a princess in rags, that he scarcely heard what she said for laughing. As soon as he recovered a little, he proceeded to chuck the princess under the chin, saying—
“You’re a pretty girl, my dear, though you ain’t no princess.”
Rosamond drew back with dignity.