"Show me this champion," said the priest.
Hans then rode up, and holding in his hand the diminutive princess, placed her in the hands of the arch-priest.
The crowd pressed hard together while the aged priest took out his spectacles and examined the tender form minutely.
"In good sooth," he exclaimed, "it is the Princess Bertha and none other. My fair princess, what treachery has been at work to deprive thee of thy rights?"
"You know me then, holy father?"
"Know thee, daughter," quoth the old man, tenderly. "Methinks it were difficult to make a mistake."
"You hear then, O people," cried the little princess, straining her feeble voice to its utmost pitch, till it resembled the squeaking of a fife; "you hear that the venerable arch-priest has recognised me."
"Ay, ay, your royal highness; long life to you, and welcome to the throne!" cried the populace.
Then a great cheering arose.
"Long live the Princess Bertha, our rightful queen!"