As the last syllable left her lips, a gay laugh rippled through the air of the room.
"May I ask what you find to laugh at in what my daughter has said?" demanded the Queen of her husband, indignantly.
"Nothing whatever, my dear—and, consequently, I did not laugh," replied the King mildly.
"What! Perhaps you will say that it was I who uttered that insolent sound?" cried the Queen.
"Now I come to recall the fact, I don't think I ever heard you laugh, my dear; but I am sure the voice that laughed a moment ago was not in the least like yours," said the King.
"It was more like my daughter's, perhaps you will say?" remarked the Queen sarcastically.
"Not in the least—I should imagine, for I never had the advantage of hearing her laugh any more than yourself," replied the King.
Again the gay sound of a musical voice, laughing lightly, rang through the room.
"Oh! This is too insulting!" cried the Queen. "Come with me, my love—out of such an unendurable atmosphere of coarseness."
And, without deigning to listen to a word of remonstrance from the King, she hurried the Princess back to her own apartment—followed by another silvery peal of laughter.