the princess. The look on Sir Bargle's face at the conclusion of his
shooting is a little too carnal for me to describe.
As he shot his set of arrows, Sir Philo was forced more than once,
after he had fully drawn his bow, to pause, and to wait until a
little tremble--attributed by the crowd to nervousness and eagerness
to win Jennifrella--left his hands. As each arrow hit the target,
remarkably near the middle, it also pierced the very center of
Lucinda's heart. The young knight thought more than once about
letting an arrow fly wide of the target, but he did his duty,
though it brought grief to himself and devastation to the woman
he treasured.
Sir Philo's smile as he took the hand of the princess was obviously
forced, but no one noticed because Jennifrella was now bawling so
spectacularly that the crowd, though not at all wishing to be unkind,
found it, frankly, entertaining.
As it does for us all, time passed and life went on.
After a peculiar three years' delay, Lucinda finally made her choice
from among several good offers and moved with her new husband to a
remote part of the kingdom where it was reported that she was content,
though some said that the cooler climate had somewhat subdued her
well-known effervescence.
In the fullness of time, Sir Philo exchanged his sword for a crown
and ascended the throne. He ruled wisely and justly, and the kingdom
prospered. Hero that he was, he had mostly adjusted to the princess'
personality, reminding himself as occasion required (and occasion did
require), that not only had he acted for the good of the kingdom, but
he had wed great beauty and, eventually, personal power. He further
reminded himself that Jennifrella had made an adequate wife, even
after her face wrinkled and her tummy pudged, and that she had proved
to be a reasonable mother to his children. Whenever, in a moment of
inattention, he discovered himself pining to enjoy a witty remark or
some unguarded laughter, he quoted, hoping that it was true, the old
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