his father, Mr. Rex Bloomsbury, was busy at his knee-hole writing-table.
He spent the morning at the office, and the afternoon in the workshop.
'Father,' he said, 'I don't know what ever will become of me. I wish I was a Prince!'
The King and Queen of Bohemia had never let their son know that he was a Prince; for what is the use of being a Prince if there's never going to be a kingdom for you?
Now, the King, who was called R. Bloomsbury, Esq., looked at his son over his spectacles and said:
'Why?'
'Because I've been and gone and fallen head over ears in love with the Princess Candida.'
The father rubbed his nose thoughtfully with his fountain pen.
'Humph!' he said; 'you've fixed your choice high.'
'Choice!' cried the Prince distractedly. 'There wasn't much choice about it. She just looked at me, and there I was, don't you know? I didn't want to fall in love like this. Oh, father, it hurts most awfully! What ever shall I do?'
After a long pause, full of thought, his father replied:
