ng!" interrupted the lively Princess gaily. "All the longer for
merriment and festivities. Thy daughter, my lord, is already beautiful,
and I'll wager the boy will be a grown man ere we have time to turn
round. So that is settled. Therefore come hither, oh nephew! Jallaluddin
Mahomed Akbar, since that is thy long name, and kiss thy cousin
Amina--Nurse! bring my sweeting hither. Now then, woman," she continued
sharply, addressing Head-nurse, who stood petrified with astonishment
and anger at the very idea of such scant ceremony. "If the boy cannot
walk, carry him!"

Head-nurse could scarcely speak. To be called "Woman" by an upstart--for
Prince Askurry had married Princess Sultanam for her beauty--was too
much!

"The Feet-of-the-Most-Condescending-of-Majesties," she began pompously,
"have not yet conferred happiness on the earth by treading it underfoot,
neither----"

Here she broke off hurriedly, for at that very instant, as if in denial
of her words, Baby Akbar gave a little crow of assent, let go her
petticoats, and with outspread balancing arms, and legs very wide apart,
launched himself boldly for his very first steps!

"_Bismillah!_" (Well done!) shrieked Foster-mother in delight.

"_Bismillah! Bismillah!_" echoed every one in the room, while all eyes
full of smiles were on the stalwart young toddler as he lurched forward,
his face one broad grin.

Princess Sultanam clapped her hands again. "Thy turban, my lord!" she
cried in a flutter of amusement. "Thy turban, quick; as his father is
not here 'tis thy place to prevent him falling of himself--thy
turban--quick! quick!"

Prince Askurry, full of laughter, pulled off the soft turban he wore--it
was all wound round and round to fit the head like a cap--and in
obedience to the Indian custom, which always prevents a child from
falling of itself in its first attempt at walking, flung it full at the
little lad. It caught him between his outspread balancing arms and over
he went on to the thick pile carpet.

Foster-mother was beside him in a second, eager to snatch him up and
cover him with kisses; but Baby Akbar wriggled himself from her hold. He
had set himself a task and he meant to do it.

"Go way!" he said with determination. "Tumbu down. Get up again."

So, calmly reaching round for the turban which lay beside him, which he
evidently thought had tumbled down too, he clapped it on his head with
both hands, rose to his feet and recommenced his forward lurch