"What!" replied Punchinello, "does the treaty only mention your promises, sire? and hasn't the King of the Negroes promised anything on his side?"
"Nothing, alas!" Then he added: "In order to amuse himself at my expense, my future son-in-law added a clause to the treaty, namely, that he would give a pair of slippers to the Princess for a wedding present, made of the most costly materials that she may feel disposed to select."
"Hurrah!" cried Punchinello. "Dry your eyes, Princess. The King of the Negroes shall not even touch the tip of your little finger. Sire, let me speak with the Ambassador, whom they say has just arrived."
The King at once caused the Ambassador to be summoned. As soon as he arrived, Punchinello said to him:
"Now, my Lord Ambassador, are not you bound, according to the treaty, to present a pair of slippers, of whatever kind she may choose, to the Princess?"
"Yes," said the Ambassador, "provided that the material is to be found under the sun."
"And if you refuse the slippers, no wedding, of course?"
"Certainly not," was the reply, with great insolence.
"Very good, my Lord Ambassador. The Princess has the good taste to be of opinion that nothing as beautiful as the skin of your fat cheeks is to be found on earth, as its blackness is only to be equalled by its lustre. Will you therefore have the goodness to see that a pair of slippers is made of this precious material? If you prefer keeping your skin for personal use, go home and tell your master so."