the bell, dear,' said the Queen. 'I'm sure what it says is right.
It is the voice of conscience. I've often heard _of_ it, but I never
heard it before.'

The King pulled the richly-jewelled bell-rope and ten magnificent green
and gold footmen appeared.

'Please ask Mademoiselle to step this way,' said the Queen.

The ten magnificent green and gold footmen found the governess beside
the marble basin feeding the gold-fish, and, bowing their ten green
backs, they gave the Queen's message. The governess who, every one
agreed, was always most obliging, went at once to the pink satin
breakfast-room where the King and Queen were sitting, almost
unrecognisable in their bandages.

'Yes, Your Majesties?' said she curtseying.

'The voice of conscience,' said the Queen, 'told us to send for you. Is
there any recipe in the French books for bringing shot princesses to
life? If so, will you kindly translate it for us?'

'There is _one_,' said the Princess thoughtfully, 'and it is quite
simple. Take a king and a queen and the voice of conscience. Place them
in a clean pink breakfast-room with eggs, coffee, and toast. Add a
full-sized French governess. The king and queen must be thoroughly
pricked and bandaged, and the voice of conscience must be very
distinct.'

'Is that all?' asked the Queen.

'That's all,' said the governess, 'except that the king and queen must
have two more bandages over their eyes, and keep them on till the voice
of conscience has counted fifty-five very slowly.'

'If you would be so kind,' said the Queen, 'as to bandage us with our
table napkins? Only be careful how you fold them, because our faces are
very sore, and the royal monogram is very stiff and hard owing to its
being embroidered in seed pearls by special command.'

'I will be very careful,' said the governess kindly.

The moment the King and Queen were blindfolded, the 'voice of
conscience' began, 'one, two, three,' and Ozyliza tore off her
disguise, and under the fussy black-and-violet-spotted alpaca of the
French governess was the simple slim cloth-of-silver dress of the
Princess. She stuffed the alpaca up the chimney and the grey wig into
the tea-cosy, and had disposed of the mittens in the coffee-pot and the
elastic-side boots in the coal-scuttle, just as the voice of conscience
said--

'Fifty-three, fifty-four, fifty-five!' and stopped.

The King and Queen pulled off the bandages, and there, alive and well,
with bright clear eyes