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There were also new official responsibilities. Even before Elizabeth's wedding, Princess Margaret performed her first unassisted public duty, the launching of an ocean liner at Belfast. She made a pretty little speech, and when a young shipworker came to present her with a bouquet of roses, she graciously selected one and tucked it in his overall's bib. A nervous nation was relieved and pleased.
No Future. Last August Margaret came officially of age. In the eyes of Parliament, she was old enough to be a Counselor of State, along with her sister and her uncles, and govern in the King's absence. She will still have to wait three more years before she comes into her own money (a £6,000 annual allowance from Parliament and numerous legacies), but to all intents she is a grownup, with her own suite of rooms at the palace. The yawning gap of years that separates her from her elder sister is all but closed. There is only one minor difference left: one day Elizabeth will probably be Queen and she, in all likelihood, will not. For Margaret that difference means only more freedom for herself. She may marry whomever she pleases (provided, of course, that he is not a Roman Catholic, that she gets her father's permission if she is still under 25, or, failing it, gives a year's notice to both houses of Parliament). She may go where she likes (provided it is decorous, proper, dignified and offends nobody). As heir to the throne, Elizabeth will continue to carry the heavy share of chairmanships, launchings and dedications. By day, Margaret will have plenty of time to entertain girl friends at gossip fests in her rooms at the palace. Of an evening, she may go with a few carefully chosen girls and young men to the theater and a nightclub. The one thing she must not do is act like a commoner.
Last week Margaret's few close friends flocked by to hear about her trip and perhaps persuade her to do a really sharp imitation of some pompous continental dignitary. But before the girlish giggles began, they still remembered to call her "ma'am," for Margaret is the daughter of the King. No matter how seductively the moon may shine as she drives home from a party, there can be no stolen kisses; a Scotland Yard man is always present to see her indoors; often a lady-in-waiting is at the door, too. As one young Briton remarked last week, "I don't think she's much of a threat to the other girls. After all, how can you get romantic about someone when there's no possible future in it?"