“I’m the one to marry him,” cried the eldest.
The Champion’s heart began to sink within him.
“I’m the one to marry him,” cried the second.
“But I’m the one to marry him,” cried the third.
“But I say that I’m the one to marry him,” cried the fourth.
“But I declare that I’m the one to marry him,” cried the fifth.
“You are all wrong!” exclaimed the sixth. “From the very first I am sure that it was understood clearly that I was to be his wife.”
“Stay, sweet Princesses,” observed the Emperor, calmly, “I see clearly that there has been some slight misunderstanding among you about this matter, and I am sure Saint Andrew is too gallant a Knight to desire to make any five of you unhappy, or jealous of the sixth. I, therefore, purpose to send you all back, under a proper escort, to your father’s court, and I hope that you will there speedily find six noble knights to lead you to the altar of Hymen.”
The six strong-minded Princesses made very long faces at the decision of the Emperor; but, as his decisions were always final, they could make no reply; though, when they once more turned their eyes towards the Scottish Knight, the spectators could not but remark that their expression was very much changed, and Saint Andrew evidently thought it wise to keep at a respectful distance from their fingers.
“Certes, Master,” whispered Murdoch to Saint Andrew, “you are, to my belief, very well out of it.”