“Your hand, old comrade,” exclaimed De Fistycuff, springing up, “that’s the very reason why I like Merrie England. She has her faults, I’ll allow; but though I’ve wandered nearly all the world around, there’s no country in my mind to be compared to her, and with all her faults I love her still.”
“Bah!” exclaimed Le Crapeau, “she is not equal to la belle France, at all events.”
“Inferior to Italy, without doubt. Look, what noble people the ancient Romans were!” observed Niccolo, swallowing a handful of macaroni.
“The idea of comparing a little island to a magnificent territory like Spain!” cried Pedrillo. “Why, we were civilised, and a province of Rome, while the British were painted barbarians, unknown to all the rest of the world.”
Thus they disputed, but all in good humour, and many a joke was bartered on the subject. All things terrestrial must come to an end, and so did, at length, the Knights’ banquet and the Squires’ jovial supper.
The next day, scarcely had the Champions arisen from their downy couches, whereon they had rested their weary limbs, after the fatigues of the numberless combats in which they had been engaged, when it was announced that six foreign Princesses, of great beauty, had arrived in the capital, and had been witnesses of the tournament, in disguise. Some said they had come in one way, some in another; and among other descriptions of the mode in which they travelled, it was asserted that they came in a chariot, drawn by twelve tame alligators and as many hippopotami.
“The Georgian Princesses, a crown against a baubee!” exclaimed Saint Andrew, starting up from his couch. “Murdoch, go and find out, with all speed, and if it is the case, get ready our steeds and baggage without delay, or one of these strong-minded young ladies will be insisting on accompanying me to my ancestral halls in bonnie Scotland.”
“They’ve run their game to earth; there’s no doubt about it,” cried Saint Patrick, who had been fond of sporting in his youth, when he heard the news. “They deserve our brushes for their pains; and one thing must be said in their favour, that they are very pretty young women, and not at all afflicted with the ordinary prejudices and bashfulness which stands in the way of so many young ladies in finding themselves comfortable establishments. What say you, Terence? Don’t you think that I might go further and fare worse?”
“Ah! faith! noble Master, that you might, unless, mark me, you get back to old Ireland; and there it isn’t much difficulty I’d have in finding many a score of sweet creatures, to whom, it’s my belief, these Georgian Princesses couldn’t hold a candle.”
The mention of his fair countrywomen (of whom Saint Patrick was a warm admirer, and who is not who knows them?) artfully thrown in by his Squire, turned the Knight from the intention he began to entertain of making one of the Princesses his bride.