"Oh, don't say she won't come to the throne!" she cried piteously. "I like my Princess Sophonisba so much."
"She'll never come to the throne," said the King, laying down the law with his fore-finger; "a Princess is no good at all. She's a stupid."
"Well, she shan't be called Jack," said the Queen, plucking up a little spirit.
"IN A MOMENT SHE WAS UPON A CHAIR" (p. [81]).
"Then I shan't play," said the little King, at once jumping down off the chair.
The little Queen put her finger in her mouth, and looked as if she did not quite know what to do. She did not care to play without Bertie, but she wanted to have her own way. She glanced at Bertie out of the corner of her eye. He turned his back to her directly, and would not look her in the face. Yes, there was no doubt about it—she could tell it from the look of his shoulders—Bertie was in the sulks.
All their play was spoilt. The throne was deserted, the sceptre laid down. They did not care to be King or Queen by themselves.
"I shall go down to mamma, then," said the Queen, and she put me down on the chair, and went off.
For some time Bertie stood in the corner, looking very cross. Then he looked round, and began wondering when May would come back. Next he commenced to cry.