She had no notion that her Heir-to-Empire should be stared at as a captive; so, though she started from camp humbly as ever on the baggage camel, no sooner had they passed through the arched gate of the city with Prince Askurry well ahead of them in the narrow streets, than out she whipped the Royal Umbrella which she had patched up with an old scarlet silk petticoat, and there was Baby Akbar under its shadow; and, having--young as he was--been taught to salute to a crowd, he began waving his little fat hand with much dignity, until the people who had come out to gape whispered among themselves and said: "He looks every inch a king's son." "And that is what he is," said a bold voice in the crowd; but though folk turned to see who spoke, there was no sign of the speaker.

For loyal men had to hide their loyalty in those days.

Still the populace were pleased with the little Prince's bearing, and many a hand was raised to welcome him.
Before they reached the frowning palace, indeed, where Prince Askurry kept a right royal court as Governor of Kandahar, Head-nurse's mind was full of the things she intended to insist upon for the honour and dignity of her small charge.

Meanwhile she had to obey the order to take him at once into Princess Sultanam's apartments.

Now Princess Sultanam was Prince Askurry's wife, and she had a boy of her own who was about three years older than Baby Akbar, and a little daughter who had just been born about a month before.