For the moment he said nothing further, but only assigned to the stranger apartments in the palace, and a suite of his own, and a yearly stipend on the most liberal scale. As days went by, being continually in each other’s presence, with that familiarity which their new relations allowed, each had the opportunity of growing more and more fond of the other. At last the king called his chamberlain to him one day and told him it was his desire that the state physician should appear before him dressed in queenly robes, and attended by a train of ladies of the court, and damsels and pages of honour.

The chamberlain fancied that the life-peril through which the prince had so lately passed had injured his brain, and only undertook the commission with a visible reluctance. Nevertheless, as he durst not disobey any command of his sovereign, how strange soever, all was done as he had directed; though what puzzled the chamberlain the more was that the physician seemed as nearly demented as the king, for, instead of testifying any reluctance in submitting to such a travesty, his countenance had betrayed the most unmistakable joy at hearing the king’s pleasure.

The king had further given orders for the attendance of all the great officers of state and all the nobles of the land, as well as his guards of various degrees, all in brilliant gala dress. Before going into the state hall to receive their homage, however, he entered alone into his private cabinet, whither he commanded the attendance of his physician. Both meeting thus, each habited to the greatest advantage in their own appropriate dress, each was more than ever smitten with the attractions of the other. The king was not very long in winning from the maiden the confession that the robes she now wore were those of her sex, or that she shared his own desire that they should be united by that tie which would bind them together inseparably for ever. No sooner had he thus obtained her consent than he led her into the midst of the assembled court and required the homage of all his people to her as their queen.

As for the wicked sisters, his first act was to send for them and have them burnt to death.

[‘How well I remember,’ added the narrator, ‘the way my mother used always to end that story when she told it to me.’

‘And how was that?’ asked I eagerly, not at all sorry to come across some local addition at last.

‘But it has nothing to do with the tale, really,’ she replied, as deeming it too unimportant to trouble me with.

‘Never mind, I should like to hear it,’ said I.

‘Well then, it used to run thus: “Never was such a banquet made in all the world as for the nuptials of this king of Persia. The confetti were as big as eggs; and, do you know, I had five of them given to me.”’

‘O mamma,’ I used to say then, ‘why didn’t you keep them for me? what splendid confetti they must have been!’