She did awake with a start to find beside her a tall lad in a canvas suit, grimy from head to foot.
"Oh, Tom," she cried, "go and wash. You, a Prince!" She yawned daintily as she rose to her feet. "You example to the British public! Oh, you disgrace!"
"A nice sort of Queen you make sleeping on the tiles like a cat. But I say, Meg, won't it be fun if they do attack! Gloucester's giving me a machine-gun, north-east salient. Oh, it's glorious!"
"Do be cautious, Tom, you know you're next to the throne."
"Keep the throne to yourself, I don't want it! Tommy of Lancaster with a crown! Bah, it doesn't look good enough. I say, won't you have some food? I'll send my servant up with a tray. You needn't come down; you'd get in our way downstairs."
"I'm very hungry," said the Queen; "but is there any food?"
"Plenty," said the Duke of Lancaster; "I'll send some up. By the way, that man from Lyonesse wants to have audience."
The Queen's face darkened and the young prince laughed.
"Ah, you see through him at last; I'm so glad. Margaret, the regiment hates him. I'll send him up and just you give him fits. If you want him shot give me first chance; now do, Meg. I'd love to riddle a man."
"Go away, go away, Tom, or I'll have you arrested for cheek."