Why, you can't do any single thing you want to.

There's always somebody messing about you to see that you don't," said Erebus with cold decision.
"B-b-but one is a _p-p-princess_," stammered the princess, with something of the wild look of one beneath whose feet the firm earth has suddenly given way.
The Terror perceived her distress; and he set about soothing it.
"You're forgetting the food," he said quickly to Erebus.

"I don't suppose she ever has to eat cold mutton; and I expect she can have all the sweets and ices she wants." "Of course," said the princess; and then she went on quickly: "B-b-but it isn't what you have to eat that makes it so--so--so important being a princess.

It's--" "But it's awfully important what you have to eat!" cried the Terror.
"I should jolly well think so!" cried Erebus.
The princess tried hard to get back to the moral sublimities of her exalted station; but the Twins would not have it.

They kept her firmly to the broad human questions of German cookery and sweets.