“And I am yours,” said a sweet young voice. The man looked up in surprise, and there before him, holding out her pretty hands toward him, stood the Princess Madge, who had slipped into the cell unnoticed.
The man sprang to his feet, clasped the little hands in his, and said:
“I know not what you mean, sweet lady, when you say that you are mine; but oh, you are passing beautiful!”
“Papa,” called the princess, “this is quite dreadful. Quick, take off that ugly soldier’s coat and tell him who we are and all about it!”
The king, starting as if from a dream, threw off the rough coat and hat and stepped forth into the beam of sunlight, resplendent in gold and ermine.
“Thou dost not know me, my man? I am the king. Hast thou not read our last proclamation?”
“No, your Majesty; I never do read proclamations.”
“Then thou didst not know that the hand of the princess is offered to the first contented man who enters the palace?”