You mustn’t suppose the honeymoon is ever really over, because it just isn’t. But he said to me: “Princess, you haven’t been all over the Palace yet. Your special House is the Third, you know, because it’s so convenient for the Second where I usually live. The King my Father lives in the First; he’s never to be seen, you know He’s very, very old nowadays; I an practically Regent of course. You must never forget that I am really He; only one generation back is not so far, and I entirely represent his thought. Soon,” he whispered ever so softly, “you will be a mother; there will be a Fairy Prince again to run away with another pretty little Sleepy head. Then I saw that when Fairy Princes were really and truly married they became Fairy Kings; and that I was quite wrong ever to be ashamed of being only a little girl and afraid of spoiling his prospects, because really, you see, he could never become King and have a son, a Fairy Prince without me.
But one can only do that by getting to the Third House, and it’s a dreadful journey, I do most honestly assure you.