Royal Family.” In the inside of Betsinda’s piece of cloak was embroidered, “prin rosal”; in the other piece of cloak was embroidered, “cess ba. No. 246.” So that when put together you read, “princess rosalba. No. 246.”
On seeing this, the dear old woodman fell down on his knee, saying: “O my princess, O my gracious royal lady,
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O my rightful Queen of Crim Tartary,—I hail thee—I acknowledge thee—I do thee homage!” And in token of this fealty, he rubbed his venerable nose three times on the ground, and put the Princess’s foot on his head.
“Why,” said she, “my good woodman, you must be a nobleman of my royal father’s Court!” for in her lowly retreat, and under the name of Betsinda, Her Majesty, Rosalba,: Queen of Crim Tartary, had read of the customs of all foreign courts and nations.
“Marry, indeed am I, my gracious liege—the poor Lord Spinachi once, the humble woodman these fifteen years syne—ever since the tyrant Padella (may ruin overtake the treacherous knave!) dismissed me from my post of First Lord.”
“First Lord of the Toothpick and Joint Keeper of the Snuff-box? I mind me! Thou heldest these posts under our royal Sire. They are restored to thee, Lord Spinachi! I make thee knight of the second class of our Order of the Pumpkin (the first class being reserved for crowned heads alone). Rise, Marquis of Spinachi!” And with indescribable majesty, the Queen, who had no sword handy, waved the pewter spoon, with which she had been taking her bread-and-milk, over the bald head of the old nobleman, whose tears absolutely made a puddle on the ground, and whose dear children went to bed that night Lords and Ladies Bartolomeo, Ubaldo, Catarina, and Ottavia degli Spinachi!
The acquaintance Her Majesty showed with the history and noble families of her empire was wonderful. “The House of Broccoli should remain faithful to us,” she said; “they were ever welcome at our Court. Have the Articiocchi, as was their wont, turned to the Rising Sun? The family of Sauerkraut must sure be with us—they were
