"Daughter," said the King. "It is time we found you a husband."
"Daddy, no!" the Princess complained. "I don't want you to just find me a husband. I have dreams."
"Now, Stephanie," said the Queen. "You know you have responsibilities to cement treaties, reward dragon-slayers, and carry on the royal line. Your dreams will have to wait until after marriage. And menopause, most likely."
"But that's just it, Mumsie. My dream is to marry for more than just those reasons."
"What other reasons can there be?" the King asked with a puzzled frown.
The Princess gave a little sigh, and her eyes glazed over. "Daddy," she said. "My dream is to add heterogenosity to our bloodline."
Her Royal Parents gasped. "But... but you know you must marry a Prince!"
"Well, yes," said the Princess. "Obviously."
The King gave a condescending smile. "Well, dear, then you must know that your dream just isn't possible. All the other princes in Europe are your first cousins."
"Your father is my first cousin and my uncle," the Queen added helpfully.
"Yes, I know but..."
"Then where are you going to find a heterogynous gene pool?" the King demanded. "Unless you plan on marrying some sort of Darkie!"
They all laughed merrily for ten minutes.
"Oh, Father," the Princess said, wiping her eyes. "I know I'm being foolish, but I can't bear to see my dream shattered! I can't help but wish... somewhere in the great green world, I had some kind of previously unknown second cousin!"
The King put his hand on her shoulder. "Princess," he said gravely. "If wishes were horses, poor people would have cavalry. And then where would we be?"
"Probably marching toward the guillotine, with the angry mob throwing rotten fruit at us!" quipped the Queen.
They all laughed hysterically.
Late that night, however, there was a knock on the drawbridge. A manservant blearily peeked through the murder hole to see who it was.
"Let me in!" called the bedraggled Caucasian stranger. "I'm a Prince!"
"A Prince?" murmured the manservant in astonishment. He hit his head on the ceiling, got up more carefully, and ran to tell the Royal Family the news.
"My poor, naive little angel," said the Queen. "This stranger's a scoundrel, and I'll prove it."
They invited the way-farer in, gave him soup, and put him to bed. But before he lay down, the Queen slipped a small uncooked pea beneath the lowest of his 439 mattresses. Chuckling evilly, she bade him good night.
The next morning, the maid-servants woke the King and Queen, saying there was screaming coming from the guest quarters.
"I'm bleeding internally!" shrieked the stranger. "Oh, God, it won't stop! I think I'm going to die!"
"My word, hæmophilia!" said the Queen to the King. "He is a true Prince after all!"
"Hooray!" said the Princess. "A previously unknown European Prince! My wildest dreams have come true!"
She kissed the new Prince, pressing her ruby lips into his pale, but manly forehead.
"Aaagh!" the Prince shouted. "I think you've broken a vein! Someone call a monk!"