“Lovely creature!” said the Prince, “tell me, oh, tell me, are you really and truly a Rory-Bory? I am sure you must be, from your brilliant and exquisite beauty.”
“Not quite,” answered the flamingo. “Not quite the same thing, though very nearly. I am a flamingo, and the Rory-Bory is a flaming go; pronounced differently, you perceive. That is the principal difference between the two families, though there are some other minor variations, which may be caused by the climate. What is your pleasure with me, and what might you happen to be?”
“My pleasure is to marry you!” exclaimed the young bear rapturously. “I am a white bear, and am called the Prince of the Poles. After my father’s death I shall become Solar-Polarity of the Hypopeppercorns. Will you be my bride, and reign with me as queen? You shall sit upon the North Pole, and direct the movements of the icebergs.”
The flamingo closed one eye, and drew up one leg in an attitude of graceful and maidenly coyness. “Your manners and bearing interest me much,” she said after a pause; “and I should be glad to do as you suggest, but I fear it is impossible. We are not allowed to marry any one with more than two legs; and you, I perceive, have four.”
The poor Prince was quite staggered by this remark, for he was proud of his legs, which, though short, were finely formed. He was silent in dismay. But now the Principal Whale interposed. “Would it not be possible to make an exception in this case?” he asked. “My young friend has come a very long way in search of you, and has quite set his heart on this marriage.”
“Alas!” said the flamingo, “I fear not. It is the first law in the kingdom, and I dare not break it.”
“What shall I do, then?” cried the Prince in despair. “If I cannot have you, I will go back and marry the swordfish’s daughter, and you would be sorry to have me do that if you knew how ugly she was.”
“In difficult cases,” said the flamingo, “we always consult the hippopotamouse. I should advise you to do the same.”
“The hippopotamouse?” exclaimed the Prince. “Where is he to be found? Tell me, that I may fly to him at once.”
“He lives in the middle of the central plain of Pongolia,” replied the flamingo.