A fray with a child not of the blood royal was beyond dreaming.

He sprang on to the castle wall and began to stamp and kick a breach in it with furious, but clumsy, energy.
Then Pollyooly turned and sprang.

The prince was hardly aware of her spring; he was only aware of a stinging smack, and then the shock of her impetus toppled him over on to his back on the sand.

Pollyooly came down too, but not on the sand; she came down on the prince, and far more heavily than her fragile air warranted.

Before he could collect any scattered wits he may have chanced to have, she was kneeling astride him, with a painful, grinding knee on either of his arms, and slapping his face.
The Honourable John Ruffin walked briskly down from the sea-wall with a smile of profound pleasure on his face.