But Beppo was now great among the great; all the world paid court to him, and bowed down to him, almost as they did before the king.
“Now,” said the princess, “the time has come to strike. Bid all the councillors, and all the lords, and all the nobles to meet here three days hence, for it is now or never that you shall win all and become king.”
Beppo did as she bade. He asked all of the great people of the kingdom to come to him, and they came. When they were all gathered together at Beppo’s house, they found two thrones set as though for a king and a queen, but there was no sign of Beppo, and everybody wondered what it all meant.
Suddenly the door opened and Beppo came into the room, leading by the hand a lady covered with a veil from head to foot.
Everybody stopped speaking and stood staring while Beppo led the veiled lady up to one of the thrones. He seated himself upon the other.
The lady stood up and dropped her veil, and then every one knew her.
It was the princess. “Do you not know me?” said she; “I am the queen, and this is my husband. He is your king.”
All stood silent for a moment, and then a great shout went up. “Long live the queen! Long live the king!”
The princess turned to the captain of the guards. “You have offered your services to my husband,” said she; “his commands and my commands are that you march to the palace and cast out him who hath no right there.”
“It shall be done,” said the captain of the guards.
All the troops were up in arms, and the town was full of tumult and confusion. About midnight they brought the false king before King Beppo and the queen. The false king stood there trembling like a leaf. The queen stood gazing at him steadily. “Behold, this is the husband that thou gavest me,” said she. “It is as I said; he is greater than thou. For, lo, he is king! What art thou?”
The false king was banished out of the country, and the poor fisherman’s wife, who had entertained the princess for all this time, came to live at the palace, where all was joy and happiness.
“Friend,” said St. George, “I like your story. Ne’th’less, tis like a strolling peddler, in that it carries a great deal of ills to begin with, to get rid of them all before it gets to the end of its journey. However, tis as you say--it ends with everybody merry and feasting, and so I like it. But now methinks our little friend yonder is big with a story of his own;” and he pointed, as he spoke, with the stem of his pipe to a little man whom I knew was the brave Tailor who had killed seven flies at a blow, for he still had around his waist the belt with the legend that he himself had worked upon it.