“Just as bad to say nothing at all as to tell stories?” exclaimed the princess. “I will ask my papa about that. He won’t say so. And I don’t think he will like you to say so.”
“Tell me directly what you mean by it!” screamed the nurse, half wild with anger at the princess and fright at the possible consequences to herself.
“When I tell you the truth, Lootie,” said the princess, who somehow did not feel at all angry, “you say to me ‘Don’t tell stories’: it seems I must tell stories before you will believe me.”
“You are very rude, princess,” said the nurse.
“You are so rude, Lootie, that I will not speak to you again till you are sorry. Why should I, when I know you will not believe me?” returned the princess. For she did know perfectly well that if she were to tell Lootie what she had been about, the more she went on to tell her, the less would she believe her.
“You are the most provoking child!” cried her nurse. “You deserve to be well punished for your wicked behaviour.”
“Please, Mrs. Housekeeper,” said the princess, “will you take me to your room, and keep me till my king-papa comes? I will ask him to come as soon as he can.”
Everyone stared at these words. Up to this moment they had all regarded her as little more than a baby.
But the housekeeper was afraid of the nurse, and sought to patch matters up, saying:
“I am sure, princess, nursie did not mean to be rude to you.”