sthenics, and the use of the globes.

"Yes, she's a dear, good girl," said the king; "yet she looks melancholy.
I believe, myself, that if Ricardo asked her to marry him, she would not
say 'No.' But that's just one of the things I object to most in Dick.
Round the world he goes, rescuing ladies from every kind of horror--from
dragons, giants, cannibals, magicians; and then, when a girl naturally
expects to be married to him, as is usual, off he rides! He has no more
heart than a flounder. Why, at his age I--"

"At his age, my dear, you were so hard-hearted that you were quite a
proverb. Why, I have been told that you used to ask girls dreadful
puzzling questions, like 'Who was Caesar Borgia?' 'What do you know of
Edwin and Morcar?' and so on."

"I had not seen _you_ then," said the king.

"And Ricardo has not seen _her_, whoever she may be. Besides, he can't
possibly marry all of them. And I think a girl should consider herself
lucky if she is saved from a dragon or a giant, without expecting to be
married next day."

"Perhaps; but it is usual," said the king, "and their families expect it,
and keep sending ambassadors to know what Dick's intentions are. I would
not mind it all so very much if he killed the monsters off his own sword,
as he did that first brace, in fair fight. But ever since he found his
way into that closet where the fairy presents lie, everything has been
made too easy for him. It is a royal road to glory, or giant-slaying
made easy. In his Cap of Darkness a poor brute of a dragon can't see
him. In his Shoes of Swiftness the giants can't catch him. His Sword of
Sharpness would cut any oak asunder at a blow!"

"But you were very glad of them when you made the Ice-beast and the Fire-
beast fight and kill each other," said the queen.

"Yes, my dear; but it wanted some wit, if I may say so, to do _that_, and
Dick just goes at it hammer and tongs: anybody could do it. It's
_intellect_ I miss in Ricardo. How am I to know whether he could make a
good fight for it without all these fairy things? I wonder what the
young rogue is about to-day? He'll be late for dinner, as usual, I
daresay. I can't stand want of punctuality at meals," remarked his
Majesty, which is a sign that he was growing old after all; for where is
the fun of being expected always to come home in time for dinner when,
perhaps, you are fishing, and the trout are rising splendidly?

"Young people will be young people,"