“Your highness’s condescension overwhelms me,” rejoined Sir Narcissus, wondering which would fall to his share.
“This shall be your bride,” continued the queen, pointing to Jane the Fool, “and I will give her a portion.”
Sir Narcissus had some ado to conceal his mortification. Receiving the announcement with the best grace he could assume, he strutted up to Jane, and taking her hand, said, “You hear her highness’s injunctions, sweetheart. You are to be Lady Le Grand. I need not ask your consent, I presume?”
“You shall never have it,” replied Jane the Fool, with a coquettish toss of the head, “if her highness did not command it.”
“I shall require to exert my authority early,” thought Sir Narcissus, “or I shall share the fate of Magog.”
“I, myself, will fix the day for your espousals,” observed Mary. “Meanwhile, you have my permission to woo your intended bride for a few minutes in each day.”
“Only a few minutes!” cried Sir Narcissus, with affected disappointment. “I could dispense with even that allowance,” he added to himself.
“I cannot reward your services as richly,” continued Mary, addressing the gigantic brethren, “but I am not unmindful of them,—nor shall they pass unrequited. Whenever you have a boon to ask, hesitate not to address me.”
The three giants bowed their lofty heads.
“A purse of gold will be given to each of you,” continued the queen; “and on the day of his marriage, I shall bestow a like gift upon Sir Narcissus.” She then waved her hand, and the new-made knight and his companions withdrew.