He was set on getting them; and if the Lady Rosalind had not expressed a wish for them, they would to-day have been in his possession." "Oh, sir, you honour us too highly," murmured Lady Rosalind; and the prince blushed and said: "Not at all! Impossible!" Then, of course, the ambassador became quite certain that his daughter was admired by the crown prince, who was on bad terms with the king of the country; and a more uncomfortable position for an ambassador--however, they are used to them.
"What on earth am I to do with the young man ?" he thought.

"He can't stay here for ever; and without his carpet he can't get away, for the soldiers have orders to seize him as soon as he appears in the street.
And in the meantime Benson will be pretending that _he_ killed the Firedrake--for he must have got to Falkenstein by now,--and they will be for marrying him to the king's niece, and making my butler crown prince to the kingdom of Pantouflia! It is dreadful!" Now all this time the prince was on the balcony, telling Lady Rosalind all about how he got the Firedrake done for, in the most modest way; for, as he said: "_I_ didn't kill him: and it is really the Remora, poor fellow, who should marry Molly; but he's dead." At this very moment there was a _whizz_ in the air: something shot past them, and, through the open window, the king, the queen, Benson, and the mortal remains of the Firedrake were shot into the ambassador's drawing- room! {The King and Queen on the carpet: p95.jpg}.