“Half and half?”
“Nor that either.”
“Red?”
This time Klaas was particularly dainty and hard to please. He declined regularly whatever she suggested and continued to exert himself to draw her into a more confidential talk. He had had the pleasure of pulling Princess Erika out of the water.
On the outside they were still singing, “Amour à la plus belle.”
“The devil take those Welsh songs!” cried one of the drinkers. “We are Dutchmen forever!”
“Yes, we are Dutchman forever——”
“And our prince——”
“Sh!”
“I will sing what I please; and, if anybody doesn’t want to sing”—he struck himself on the chest, and the whole party was Dutch and enthusiastic over royalty. “Our Prince” was sung lustily, and to a finish.