ey _would_ talk all the
time."

The Court, which had been resting on the right leg with the left knee
bent, now rested on the left leg with the right knee bent. Woggs also
was getting tired. The last company of the Army of Amazons was not
marching with the abandon of the first company.

[Illustration: _Armed to the teeth, Amazon after Amazon marched by_]

"I think I should like them to halt now so that I can address them,"
said Hyacinth.

Belvane was taken aback for the moment.

"I am afraid, your--your Royal Highness," she stammered, her brain
working busily all the time, "that that would be contrary to--to--to
the spirit of--er--the King's Regulations. An army--an army in
marching order--must--er--_march_." She made a long forward movement
with her hand. "Must march," she repeated, with an innocent smile.

"I see," said Hyacinth, blushing guiltily again.

Belvane gave a loud cough. The last veteran but two of the Army
looked inquiringly at her and passed. The last veteran but one came
in and was greeted with a still louder cough. Rather tentatively the
last veteran of all entered and met such an unmistakable frown that it
was obvious that the march-past was over. . . . Woggs took off her
helmet and rested in the bushes.

"That is all, your Royal Highness," said Belvane. "158 marches past,
217 reported sick, making 622; 9 are on guard at the Palace--632 and 9
make 815. Add 28 under age and we bring it up to the round thousand."

Wiggs opened her mouth to say something, but decided that her mistress
would probably wish to say it instead. Hyacinth, however, merely
looked unhappy.

Belvane came a little nearer.

"I--er--forgot if I mentioned to your Royal Highness that we are
paying out today. One silver piece a day and several days in the
week, multiplied by--how many did I say?--comes to ten thousand pieces
of gold." She produced a document, beautifully ruled. "If your Royal
Highness would kindly initial here----"

Mechanically the Princess signed.

"Thank you, your Royal Highness. And now perhaps I had better go and
see about it at once."

She curtsied deeply, and then, remembering her position, saluted and
marched off.

Now Roger Scurvilegs would see her go without a pang; he would then
turn over to his next chapter, beginning "Meanwhile the King----," and
leave you under the impression that the Countess Belvane was a common
thief. I am no such chronicler as that. At all costs I wil