He had a jovial nature, and was an indulgent father to his two young daughters, especially fond of the younger, Princess Veronica, for more delightful sweetness, prettiness, and lovableness it would be difficult to find in any other young damsel of sixteen years old. So believed that fine young soldier, Prince Olivin; and so believed every one else in the whole kingdom. Every one else, with one exception—Princess Christobel, her sister, older by one year. She had her own ideas on the subject evidently, for she kept a surly silence when her sister's praises were sung. People said it was her jealousy, because she was plain-looking, and sulky in expression and character; and some did say she was secretly in love with Prince Olivin herself.
Outside the castle this night the silent landscape had been decorated, by order of King Frost, in snow and crystal. Inside the castle the great halls had been decorated, by order of King Jorum, in holly and mistletoe. In the antechamber to the ball-room stood the giant Christmas-tree, hung with so many gifts of exquisite needlework from the ladies of the Court for the King, and so many, too, for Princess Veronica, that there was hardly room for any other presents for any one else, so they had to be stacked up in separate heaps on the floor.
There was one present on the tree, which was handsomer and costlier than all the rest—it was a pair of woollen boots so cunningly and dexterously wrought with precious jewels that they were the most beautiful ever seen or heard of. They were the handiwork of Countess Spinx, and of all the handsome ladies who were assembled in the ball-room where the candles in the chandeliers cast a softening light on their charms, she seemed this Christmas Eve the most unnerved, the most excited. Courtiers came strolling in by twos and threes, and the scene became animated and gay.
For as history shows, it was the custom at the Court of King Jorum, by special decree of the Monarch, that every man, woman, and child should dress themselves in costumes of any distinctive style they liked—whatever suited their fancy best. (That was the origin, ages after, of the term—fancy-dress.) There was thus no slavish following of fashion, and consequently every one looked, or fancied they looked, their very, very best, and were thoroughly at ease in their quaint and, mostly, fascinating attire.
"Here's Little Love!" exclaimed a bevy of fair dames, pressing forward as a handsome child stepped into their midst, dressed as Cupid, and looking the realest of little Loves from the tips of his tiny bare toes to the tips of his tiny bare wings. He was the King's godson and pet.
"He's sure to know! Perhaps he can give us a hint of the news!" exclaimed Countess Spinx with eyes blazing eagerly as she placed herself in his path, with her crook firmly planted on the ground: she was dressed as a shepherdess, which showed to advantage the curls on her fair neck, and her small feet in their high-heeled shoes. "Whisper to me!" she coaxed; "or," with a pretty shake of the crook, "I'll not let you pass!"
Little Love might have been deaf, looking neither to the right nor to the left, so unconcernedly did he continue his way stolidly on to meet the procession of the King.
Countess Spinx bit her lip in vexation; the other ladies merely shrugged their shoulders and laughed; and the gentlemen stroked their mouths to hide their smiles. Then all conversation was smothered by the entry of the heralds with their raised silver trumpets and their—
Par—parraparpar—pip—ha!
Par—parraparpar—paar—r!
This was immediately followed by the entry of King Jorum holding Little Love by the hand. The whole company bowed and curtsied very low—and then stood at attention, breathless with expectation.