They shall go forth to
their glorious destiny as one people. Your gracious ruler has seen fit
to bestow her hand and affections upon an American gentleman, your
esteemed prince consort. We all know how loyally the people have
approved her choice. There is one present, a trusted friend of your
beautiful princess, and lovingly called in your hearts, Beverly of
Graustark. Whose example more worthy for me to follow than that of the
Princess Yetive? With whom could I better share my throne and please you
more than with your beloved American protege. I ask you to drink a toast
to my betrothed, Beverly Calhoun, the future Princess of Dawsbergen."
Every glass was raised and the toast drunk amidst ringing cheers. The
military band crashed out the air so dear to all Americans, especially
to southern hearts. Beverly was too overcome to speak.
"You all--!" she exclaimed.
There was a tremendous commotion in the gallery. People were standing in
their seats half frightened and amused, their attention attracted by the
unusual scene. A portly negress totally unconscious of the sensation she
was causing, her feet keeping time to the lively strains of music, was
frantically waving a red and yellow bandanna handkerchief. It was Aunt
Fanny, and in a voice that could be heard all over the banquet hall, she
shouted: "Good Lawd, honey, ef der ain't playin' 'Away Down South in
Dixie,' Hooray! Hooray!"
* * * * *
Hours later Beverly was running, confused and humbled, through the halls
to her room, when a swifter one than she came up and checked her flight.
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