These were indeed happy, sunny days, which were prepared for the bride of Adolph Frederick of Holstein, the Crown Prince of Sweden.  Fete succeeded to fete.  The whole land took part in the happiness of the royal family.  All the provinces and cities sent deputations to congratulate the king, and bring rich gifts to the princess; she who had been always cast into the shade by the more noble and bewildering beauty of her younger sister, had now become the centre of attraction in all these superb festivities which followed each other in quick succession.  It was in honor of the Princess Ulrica that the king gave a masked ball in the opera-house, to which the whole city was invited; for her, on the evening of her betrothal, every street in Berlin was brilliantly illuminated with wax-lights, not by command of the king, but as a free-will offering of the people; for her the queen, at Schonhausen, gave a superb ball; for her the Swedish ambassador arranged a fete, whose fabulous pomp and extravagant luxury were supposed to indicate the splendor which awaited her in her new home.  Lastly, this ball at the royal palace, to which not only the nobles, but many of the wealthy burghers were invited, was intended as a special compliment to Ulrica.

More than three thousand persons moved gayly through these royal saloons, odorous with the perfume of flowers, glittering with wax-lights, the glimmer of diamonds, and rich gold and silver embroideries—­nothing was to be seen but ravishing toilets and happy faces.  All the beauty, youth, rank, fame, and worth of Berlin were assembled at the palace; and behind these lovely ladies and glittering cavaliers, the wondering, gaping crowd, of common men, moved slowly onward, dumb with amazement and delight.  The king had commanded that no well-dressed person should be denied entrance to the castle.

Those who had cards of invitation were the guests of the king, and wandered freely through the saloons.  Those who came without cards had to content themselves behind the silken ropes stretched across one side of the rooms; by means of this rope an almost invisible and yet an insurmountable barrier was interposed between the people and the court circle.

It was difficult to preserve the rules and customs of courtly etiquette in such a vast assembly, and more difficult still to see that every man was received and served as the guest of a king, and suitable to his own personal merit.  Crowds of lackeys flew through the rooms bearing silver plateaux filled with the richest viands, the most costly fruits, and the rarest wines.  Tables were loaded with the luxuries of every clime and season, and the clang of glasses and the sweet sound of happy laughter were heard in every direction.  The king expressed a proud confidence in his good people of Berlin, and declined the services of the police.  He commissioned some officers of his life-guard to act as his substitute and play the host, attending to the wants and pleasures of all.  Supper was prepared in the picture-gallery for the court circle.