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CHAPTER X.—“KINGS AND QUEENS GALORE.”
URRYING back to the Palace Boy found a great crowd of people on the steps at the principal entrance—most of them carried bundles and parcels, and some even had articles of furniture on their heads.
“Why, whatever is happening now?” he thought, and on inquiry he found that these were some of the newly elected Kings coming to take possession of the Palace.
King Cæsar Maximilian Augustus Claudius Smith (now called King Smith I.), whose crown had not yet arrived, had ingeniously contrived a temporary one of alternate silver forks and spoons stuck in the band of his hat, and, with a velvet pile table-cloth from one of the drawing-room tables thrown over his shoulder, looked quite imposing as he stood at the door and explained to the people that he was now as much a King as the rest of them, and intended to keep the Palace for himself.
“You may come in, though,” he said, catching sight of Boy, and as soon as he had entered, King Smith I. closed and bolted the door, and the other disappointed Kings had to carry their bundles and parcels home again.
“How do you like being a King, Your Majesty?” asked King Smith I. pleasantly, when they had reached one of the state apartments in which he had established himself.
“Well, I don’t know,” laughed Boy, “I don’t feel any different at present.”
“Ah! that’s because you haven’t a crown and sceptre, Your Majesty; we must see what we can find for you. You are sure to be treated with disrespect if you don’t maintain your kingly dignity. The late Lord High Adjudicator, who is now King Joshua Dobbs, seized the regalia as soon as he knew that he was elected King, and so the rest of us will have to make shift with such crowns and things as we can manufacture for ourselves. Now let’s see. What can we make you a crown out of? Oh! I know. There are some packets of tea downstairs with some beautiful silver paper around them; suppose we make you a crown of that, and twist some around a stick for a sceptre.”
So with some paste and cardboard and this silver paper, which King Smith I. brought up from downstairs, they soon made quite a respectable-looking crown, and particularly as King Smith I. had found some fancy buttons, which he fastened into it, to look like jewels. Another small table-cloth, pinned to Boy’s shoulders for a cloak, completed his costume, and he felt quite proud of his appearance when he saw his reflection in the looking-glass at the end of the room.
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“Will there be any meeting in the House of Words to-day?” asked Boy, “and if so who will sit on the Throne? I expect there will be a rare scramble for it, won’t there?”
King Smith I. laughed. “The Busybody Extraordinary,” he said, “took possession of it immediately he heard that he had been elected King and won’t leave it on any consideration whatever. He has sat in it ever since the Election and at first declared that he would carry it about with him wherever he went, and when he found that it was too heavy to move, he sent for his wife and family, and they have taken up their residence on the dais on which it is placed, and intend to remain there. The First Lord of the Cash Box has the best of it, though, for he has all the money—he absolutely refuses to part with a penny; and although I tried to persuade him that I ought to have an allowance made me as I was now a King, he wouldn’t see it He said that if he made every one who was elected an allowance he would have no money left for himself.”
“What time do we dine to-day?” asked Boy, who began to feel rather hungry.
“Well, you see,” explained King Smith, “all the other servants have left, and I expect we shall have to manage for ourselves; fortunately there is plenty of food in the larder, but who’s to set the table? I don’t think, now that I am a King, I ought to have to do that sort of thing, you know.”
“Oh! I don’t mind helping to set the table,” suggested Boy, “if you will show me where the things are.”
“Very well, Your Majesty,” said King Smith I.; “one King is as good as another, and if you don’t mind helping we will soon have a nice little dinner party all to ourselves.”
So Boy and he went down into the great empty kitchens, and brought up plates and dishes and laid them in great state in the Banqueting Hall, and with the pies and pasties which they found in the pantry they had quite a feast.
After they had enjoyed their dinner, King Smith I. washed the dishes, and Boy wiped them and put them away, and then he thought that he would like to stroll into the town and see what was going on. He found the streets full of Kings and Queens dressed with the most ridiculous attempts at royal grandeur; the Queens wore long court trains made of table-cloths and window-curtains, and any other old finery that they could scrape together at such short notice, while the Kings did their best to appear grand with such odds and ends as were left.
Dish-covers and fireirons were very fashionable substitutes for crowns and sceptres, which, of course, were necessary for everybody.
Boy’s crown of tinsel paper was evidently much admired, and many of the Kings and Queens cast envious glances at it as he walked through the streets. On the whole, though, they all seemed pretty well satisfied with themselves, and treated each other with a considerable amount of hauteur.
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Boy called in at the House of Words just out of curiosity to see the Busybody Extraordinary, and found him, looking very dignified indeed, seated on the great gilded throne at one end of the Hall; the effect was rather marred, though, by the dais being littered with all kinds of household furniture which had been hastily brought across from his old home. Her Majesty the Queen, his wife, was busy making up a bed for the baby on one of the lower steps, and the Princess, his daughter, and the Crown Prince, his son, were squabbling as to who should wash up the dinner plates in a tin pail at the back of the throne.
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They received Boy in great state, however, for when they perceived him coming towards them the King arose and the Queen and the Prince and Princess formed a group around him, with their noses in the air in a very superior style, and the Queen informed Boy that “he might kiss her hand if he wished.”
Boy, however, said, “it didn’t matter, thank you, and he had only called to see how they liked living on the dais.”
“Oh, of course,” said the King with a grand air, “it’s only for a very short time—until I have an opportunity of re-organising my Kingdom. It’s rather awkward, at present, you see, there being so many other Kings and Queens about.”
“Yes, I should think so,” laughed Boy.
The King got down from the throne, and coming close to Boy, whispered in his ear,—
“Would you mind calling me ‘Your Majesty’ when you speak to me, please?” and then went back to his throne again.
“What nonsense!” replied Boy. “I can’t keep addressing everybody as ‘Your Majesty,’ you know, and, besides, I’m as much of a King as you are.”
The Queen looked very severe.
“What shall we do about it, my dear?” asked the King anxiously.
“Send him to the deepest dungeon beneath the Castle Moat,” replied the Queen, waving her hand tragically.
“Yes, we shall really have to do something of that sort, if you don’t treat us with proper respect,” remarked the King warningly.
“What rubbish!” laughed Boy. “Why, you haven’t got a castle moat, or a dungeon either,” and he walked away while the King sat down on the throne with a great air of offended dignity, and the rest of the Royal family resumed their domestic duties.
Out in the town Boy found all the shops closed; for, you see, none of the Kings and Queens would think of working, and so everything was at a standstill.
After hunting about for a little time Boy found the house where the Advertiser General had lived, and thought he would call on him. He found him seated at one end of the long studio while the Public Rhymester sat at the other; they had each arranged a chair on the top of a table to look something like a throne, and the Advertiser General had really made a very regal-looking cloak out of a large piece of calico, by painting one side red and drawing little black tails on the other to look like ermine. They seemed very miserable, though, and explained to Boy that they had not been able to get anything to eat.
“We went out a little while ago,” complained the Advertiser General, “but His Majesty the butcher was most rude when I commanded him to send me some meat for dinner, and Her Majesty his wife asked me if I knew who I was talking to?’
“It was just the same with His Majesty the grocer. He was seated in state on a sugar-barrel at one end of his shop, which he now calls the Palace, and would no more think of serving me with a pound of tea than if he had been the Emperor of China himself.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what will become of us,” chimed in the Public Rhymester. “I am thinking of emigrating and letting myself out on hire at people’s houses in some country where Kings and Queens are not quite so plentiful as they are here. I have drawn up a little Prospectus. You might like to see it, and if you could recommend me to a good family where they know how to treat a King properly I should be much obliged,” and the late Public Rhymester handed Boy the following:—
HIS MAJESTY THE KING OF ZUM
ATTENDS PARTIES
REASONABLE TERMS. DISTANCE NO OBJECT.
“Oh! kings are plentiful to-day;
And if you want one, step this way,
My modest terms to hear.
You hire me by the day or week,
Eightpence an hour is all I seek,
My washing and my beer
“Suburban dinner parties, hops,
The Opera and ‘Monday Pops’—
Why,
I’m the very man.
You really seldom have the chance
Your social status to advance
By such an easy plan.
“Just think how Smith and Jones will stare,
And Robinson and Brown will glare,
If to your house they come,
And you with easy, careless grace
Can introduce us face to face,
My friend the King of Zum.’
“And then when nobody’s about
There’s heaps of little things, no doubt,
That I could find to do.
It’s seldom that you find a King
So handy about everything,
And yet so regal too.
“When in my Royal Robes I’m drest,
I’ll be most gracious to each guest,
Attending your ‘At Home.’
And when they’ve gone I will not scorn
To mend your children’s clothes, if torn,
Or hair to brush and comb.
“You give a Dinner—just so—look—
I’ll help the Footman—Butler—Cook,
Before the guests arrive.
In fact, I humbly claim to be,
Without the slightest question, the
Most useful King alive.”
“Can you suggest any improvement?” he asked when Boy had finished reading the Prospectus.
“No,” replied he, “I think it reads very well indeed, and I hope that you will soon get an engagement.”
“I intend going into trade,” remarked the late Advertiser General from the throne at the other end of the room. “So many of the nobility now open shops that I don’t see why Kings should not do so too. I intend to establish some Stores at Zum, and call it the ‘Royal Service Supply Association for providing Kings and Queens and other members of Royal families with the necessaries of life!’ You see something of the kind must be done or we shall all starve.”
“Yes, I think that is a capital idea,” said Boy. “I will ask King Smith I. to deal with you when I get back to the Palace; but I must be going now. Good-afternoon, Your Majesties,” and Boy bowed politely, and was just going out of the door when he heard both of the Kings hurriedly scrambling down from their thrones. He waited to see what they wanted, and when they reached him, each King caught hold of one of his arms, and whispered in his ear,—
“Would you mind inviting me home to tea?”
“Oh! certainly, come by all means, if you like,” said Boy, remembering that there were lots of things left in the larder.
“Thank you awfully,” said the Advertiser King.
“Much obliged,” echoed the other, and hurrying down the stairs and out into the street the three Kings went arm-in-arm to the Palace.
CHAPTER XI.—WHAT HAPPENED IN THE GRIM FOREST.
HEY entered the Palace gardens by the private gate, the key of which King Smith I. had given to Boy before he started, and were walking towards Boy’s apartments when they met His Majesty, the late footman, hurrying along one of the corridors. He bowed rather distantly to the other two Kings, and said to Boy, in an excited tone of voice,—
“I’ve found the Portmanteau!”
“Never!” cried Boy.
“Yes,” replied King Smith I., “I was sitting having my tea, when suddenly it dropped down from somewhere on to the tea-table. I can’t think where it came from. Come and see it;” and he led the way to his apartments, where, sure enough, there was the Portmanteau, about which such a fuss had been made. It was quite an ordinary-looking one, but there could be no mistake as to whom it belonged, for there were the words,
“H.M. the King of Limesia.
His
Bag”
written on it, and below in smaller letters—
“Steal not this bag for fear of shame,
For on it is the owner’s name.”
“Where can it have come from?” asked Boy, gazing at it curiously.
“I can’t think,” replied King Smith I., “unless Ohah had something to do with it. I shouldn’t be at all surprised if he had a finger in the pie.”
“Perhaps,” suggested Boy, “he made it invisible like the Prince and Princess, and now that he is a Kottle his charms have lost their power.”
“Very likely,” agreed the others. And then the question arose, “What should be done with it?”
Boy thought it ought to be sent back to the King of Limesia, but the others said “No! let him send for it, or come for it himself if he wants it;” and King Smith I. thought that an advertisement ought to be sent to the papers, worded something like this
FOUND A RATHER SHABBY PORTMANTEAU,
Belonging to some king or
another.
If not claimed within the next ten days,
will be sold
to defray expenses.
The finder expects to be handsomely; rewarded.
They could not come to any definite arrangements about it, though, and it was placed in the corner of the room while they had their tea.
During this meal Boy was rather silent, for he was hatching in his own mind a little plot, in which the Portmanteau was to play an important part.
“How far is Limesia from here?” he asked casually, while tea was going on.
“Oh! not far,” was the reply; “it is the adjoining kingdom, just through the Grim Forest, you know.”
Boy knew where the Grim Forest was, for it had been pointed out to him from one of the Palace windows—a great dark-looking wood stretching away as far as the eye could see.
“Is there no other way of getting there?” he asked anxiously.
“No,” was the reply, “that is the only way;” and Boy sat thinking and thinking till tea was over and the other Kings went home; then he suggested to King Smith I. that he should take charge of the Portmanteau till the King of Limesia sent for it, and this having been agreed to, he carried it up to his own apartments.
“If I can only get it to the King of Limesia,” he thought, “he would no doubt be very pleased, and perhaps would advise me what I ought to do about fetching the little King back again;” for you see Boy was greatly worried at the way in which things were going on at Zum; he felt that with so many Kings and Queens about there was a great danger of the country coming to grief.
So as soon as he could he manfully set out from the Palace quite alone to try and find his way through Grim Forest to Limesia. He had discarded his paper crown and sceptre and carried the precious Portmanteau—which fortunately was not very heavy—on his shoulder. He was rather alarmed at the prospect of his journey through the dark forest, but he was a brave, sturdy little fellow, and determined to make the best of it. He commenced whistling as he entered the wood, and had not gone far when he saw an old man gathering sticks.
“Can you please tell me, is it far to Limesia?” he asked.
“Eh?” said the man, putting his hand to his ear.
“Is it far to Limesia, please?” repeated Boy.
“Ay! that’s what I told her!” said the old man, shaking his head, “but she would put the onions into it. I told her the gentlefolks would be sure not to like’em.”
“You don’t understand me,” shouted Boy; “I want to know the way to Limesia.”
“I dare say they have, I dare say they have,” replied the old man; “use is no odds in these parts, sir.”
“Oh dear me!” thought Boy, “he’s dreadfully deaf; I shall never make him hear, I am afraid;” and he was just going to walk away when he saw an old woman in a red cloak hobbling towards them with the aid of a crooked stick.
“My husband is very deaf,” she said, “and cannot hear a word you say. Can I do anything for you, sir?”
“Oh, I was only asking the way to Limesia,” said Boy.
“Why, you can’t go there to-night!” said the woman; “it’s ever so far; you had better stay at our cottage till the morning.”
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Boy thanked her very gratefully, for he really did not care for the long walk through the woods by himself.
The old woman gave her husband a poke with her stick, and pointed to the cottage which Boy could see in the distance; and the old man nodded his head, and led the way with the bundle of sticks on his shoulder, while Boy and the old lady followed behind.
“What a beautiful old house!” exclaimed Boy, when they reached the cottage; for it was indeed a lovely place, quite overgrown with climbing roses, which were just then in full bloom. There were nice old-fashioned, latticed windows with pretty white curtains and quaint twisted chimneys above the roof, and altogether it was a charming old place.
“Why, it must be a great deal too big for you and your husband, surely,” said Boy, as they entered the wicket gate which led into the little garden before the cottage.
“Oh, it doesn’t belong to us,” explained the woman; “it was the late King of Zum’s Hunting Lodge, and we live here rent free as caretakers. We have the kitchen and two small rooms, and the rest of the house has been occupied this last five years or more by gentlefolks,” said the old woman dropping her voice to a whisper and looking up nervously at the upper windows. “But come you in and have some supper; that is, if you don’t mind having it with us,” and the kind old soul led the way to the kitchen, which was scrupulously clean, and Boy sat down on a little three-legged stool while she made some milk hot in a caldron over the wood fire which was alight on the old-fashioned hearth.
Presently a bell rang and the old woman asked Boy to watch that the milk didn’t boil over while she went upstairs to wait on the gentlefolks.
She came down a minute or two afterwards with a piece of paper which she handed to Boy.
“Will you please tell me what is written on there?” she said. “It’s getting dusk, and my poor old eyes are not so good as they used to be.”
“We shall not require anything else to-night, and please let breakfast be ready by nine o’clock to-morrow morning,” read Boy.
“Oh! that’s all right then,” said the old woman, pouring out the milk into some basins for their supper.
“But why don’t they tell you what they want instead of writing it?” asked Boy.
“They can’t,” explained the woman; “they are invisible and speechless. It’s a very sad story,” she said, sighing sorrowfully.
“Why, I know a lady and gentleman who are invisible too,” exclaimed Boy, thinking of the Crown Prince and the Princess. “I wonder if they can possibly be the same.”
“These gentlefolks have only been like that for a few months,” said the woman; “they came here four or five years ago, a beautiful lady and a fine handsome young gentleman with one servant, a rather stout, pleasant-spoken woman, and lived here very quiet. I think the lady must have been some one very important at one time, for when their little baby boy was born quite a lot of grand folks came to see her from Limesia. Such a dear little fellow he was, and his father and mother were so proud of him and so fond of each other. The lady would sing and play beautifully, and the gentleman would read to her, and sometimes they would go out for a ride in the Forest; but never very far away, and they always seemed glad to be back again; till one day about two months ago a grand gentleman came and told us the King of Zum was dead, and then our gentleman, as I call him, went to Limesia with the dear lady his wife. I wish you could have seen them go. Such a lovely dress the lady had on, and beautiful jewels, and the gentleman too looked very grand.
“Well, they drove off in a carriage and pair and we didn’t see any more of them all day, but in the evening, though, they came back, and you never saw such a sight in all your life; they both seemed to be fading away—bits of the gentleman here and there were quite transparent, and the dear lady had to be carried upstairs, for she couldn’t walk. The next day they were much worse, and gradually disappeared altogether. Just before they vanished entirely a lot of ladies and gentlemen came over to see them from Limesia, and when they had gone back the nurse took the little boy away too, and I have never seen them again from that day to this. I suppose the lady and gentleman are still here, for every day I find on the table upstairs some written directions about meals and so on, which I carry up and which disappear too, but I never see anybody.”
“Why, I do believe,” exclaimed Boy, “that it must be the Prince and Princess. I should like to see them.”
“So should I,” said the woman.
“Do you think I might write them a note?” asked Boy. “I have something very important to tell them if they are really the Prince and Princess.”
“I never tried that,” said the woman; “you can do so, though, if you wish. I will take the note upstairs and put it on the table, and we will see what happens, if you like.”
Boy thought that this would be the best thing for them to do, so as soon as supper was over he wrote the following polite note:
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“To His Royal Highness The Crown Prince of Zum.
“Dear Sir,
The King of Limesia’s Portmanteau has been found, and a little boy from Zum has brought it here and would very much like to tell you what is happening there, because he really thinks that you ought to interfere.
“Yours respectably,
"Boy.”
He meant “respectfully,” of course, but you know how it is with letters. One often writes the wrong word, don’t they? I know I do. Well, this note was taken upstairs and put on the table, and presently the bell rang again violently, and on going upstairs they found another note beside it addressed to:
“Master Boy.”
He opened it at once and found the following words:
“Ohah promised that as soon as the Portmanteau was found we should be made visible again, so please take the’ Portmanteau in one hand and say, ‘I wish the Crown Prince of Zum and the Princess his wife to become visible again as Ohah the Magician promised.’”
Boy ran downstairs for the Portmanteau, and grasping the handle firmly with one hand repeated the words loudly.
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They were hardly out of his mouth before a thin mist appeared at one end of the room which gradually divided and became more and more distinct, till Boy could at last distinguish the outlines of the Prince and the Princess, and in a very few moments he had the pleasure of seeing them quite clearly.
“Ah! that’s better,” said His Royal Highness, with a sigh of relief, when he was quite solid. “How do you feel, my dear?” he asked, turning to the Princess, who, however, could not answer him yet, as only the upper part of her head had appeared at present; she waved her hand, though, to show that she was all right.
“I’m sure we are very much obliged to you,” said the Prince graciously to Boy. “How did you know we were here?”
And then Boy had to tell them all about his visit to Zum and the extraordinary events which had been happening since he had been there.
“And you are quite sure that my son is all right?” inquired the Prince anxiously.
Boy explained how he had sent him to Drinkon College under the charge of the Nurse and One-and-Nine.
And the Princess, who had by this time quite recovered her voice, thanked him over and over again for all that he had done, and after arranging that the Portmanteau should be sent to the King of Limesia the next day they determined that it would be best for them to go back to Zum that very night.
So the Prince’s horse was saddled, and with the Princess on a pillion behind and Boy on a pony which belonged to the little King they rode back through the gathering darkness to Zum.
All was quiet when they reached the Palace, and Boy led the way through the private entrance. King Smith had not yet retired to rest and came forward when he heard them enter. He recognised the Crown Prince at once, and hastily tearing off his own crown and cloak, bowed low and welcomed him back to the Palace.
“It is indeed a good thing for Zum, Your Highness, that you have returned,” he said, “for things could not possibly have gone on like this much longer. I am sure there is not a King in the place who will not feel it a pleasure to abdicate in favour of Your Highness.”
“Thanks!” remarked the Prince. “Now can we go to my own suite of rooms, or have they been altered during my long absence?”
“They are just as Your Highness left them,” answered the footman, leading the way to another part of the Palace, and the Prince with the Princess leaning on his arm followed, after they had both, shaken hands heartily with Boy and wished him good-night.
CHAPTER XII.—THE CONCLUSION OF THE WHOLE MATTER.
F course the news of the Crown Prince’s return was soon known throughout the kingdom, and all the Kings and Queens being thoroughly tired of the complications which had arisen through there being so many of them elected, were quite delighted to hear of it.
“For what is the use,” Boy heard one of them say, “of reigning if you have no subjects to rule over but a lot of stuck-up Kings and Queens who think too much of themselves to treat other people with proper respect? I’m heartily sick of it.”
“Yes,” was the rejoinder, “and so am I. Why, ever since my wife has been a Queen she has been as disagreeable as she can possibly be, and insists upon ‘standing on her diginity,’ as she describes it, at home. I mustn’t call her ‘my dear’ if you please, it’s too familiar—‘Your Majesty’ this, and ‘Your Majesty’ that, is what she likes, till I’m tired of hearing it. I shall be right glad when she is plain Jane Eliza Scroggs again, that I shall.”
Quite early on the morning after the Crown Prince’s return Cæsar Augustus Maximilian Claudius Smith (once more called Thomas for short) was sent to Drinkon College to bring the Royal Nurse and the little King home again, and while he was gone the Prince and Princess drove out in a beautiful carriage and pair and were received with most enthusiastic cheers and applause by the populace; and in the afternoon the little King returned accompanied by Mrs. Martha Matilda Nimpky.
Boy was quite surprised to see that her corkscrcw curls were now a bright golden colour, whereas they had been quite black before.
One-and-Nine did not come back with them, but the Royal Nurse had a letter from him addressed to Boy, which he took up to his room and read.
“Expensive Sir,” it began.
“I wonder whatever he means?” thought boy. “Oh! I see, ‘expensive’ is his way of writing ‘dear.’”
“Expensive Sir,
“This comes hopping that you are most healthful, as it leaves me at present. You will be joyed to hear that I am about to be matrimonialized to a Zuluish lady of the richest colour—with movable joints. That Majestuous lady the Royal Nurse having declined me with much pleasure, has offered to be sisterish to me; but the Zuluish lady objects, so I have had to separationize myself from the Majestuous one with considerable distance. Before we parted I begged for one of those most twistful corkscrew curls as a keepsake, and she extravaganteously presentuated me with the lot—they fasten behind the head with considerable stringiness, or it may be even black tapeishness; it is hard to tell which is what in this life.
“The Prince of Whales has given me a new coat—of paint—and as my Zuluish lady dresses with much simpleness, we shall doubtfully domesticate with great happiness.
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“Please give my devotionated affection to that Majestuous lady, and say I will think of her with much continuation and perpetuation, and also the curls, which shall never leave my head—as it leaves her at present.
“Yours contentuously,
“One-and-Nine
“N.B.—She had another set in her box”
“I suppose he means another set of curls,” thought Boy, “which would account for the change in Mrs. Martha Matilda Nimpky’s appearance. Well, I’m sure I hope that One-and-Nine will be happy with his Zulu bride. What a funny chap he is, to be sure!”
Later on in the day the Prince and Princess and the little King held a reception, to which all the principal inhabitants of Zum were invited, and, of course, all the Court dignitaries were present. The Public Rhymester was also there, through the influence of his friend the Advertiser General.
The Prince made a speech from the Terrace, in which he informed the people that he should, of course, take the reins of office himself now, and would do his best, when King of the Country, to promote the welfare of his subjects.
The Princess was most popular too, and by her beauty and condescension captivated all hearts.
In the evening there was an al fresco concert in the beautiful Palace gardens, which were brilliantly illuminated for the occasion. Amongst the items on the programme were some songs by the “Pierrot Troupe,” and Boy anxiously wondered if his Pierrot would be amongst them. To his great delight he found that he was, and when he stepped forward with his banjo, and began the well-known tune to “The Little Tin Soldier,” Boy applauded vigorously. The words, however, were quite different, and went somehow like this—
THE MARRIED TIN SOLDIER.
One night as I paused by the Nursery door,
And looked at the scattered toys,
I said to myself, “Was there ever before
Such troublesome girls and boys?”
And then as I hurried to gather them up,
I heard a wee voice complain,
“Oh! sorry am I that I ever was wed,
And would I were single again!”
On the ground at my feet lay a soldier red,
And I think he was made of tin,
And I noticed the paint on the top of his head
Was getting remarkably thin.
And I asked him why, at that hour of the night,
He was making that horrible noise;
And I told him to stop and behave like a man,
Or like other respectable toys.
“Oh! how would you like it yourself,” quoth he,
“To be married to such a wife;
To be treated as no loving husband should be,
And be plagued almost out of your life?
She carries on with the other toys,
She’s extravagant and vain;
No wonder,” he said, “that I’m sorry I wed
And long to be single again.”
“It’s all very well,” said another voice,
“But he’s just as bad as me,
And he needn’t have wed, for I had my choice
Of many as good as he.”
And a waxen doll, in a dress of blue
That was rather the worse for wear,
Looked up from under our Baby’s shoe
With a discontented air.
“You naughty, naughty toys,” I cried,
“To quarrel now you’re wed.”
And as I packed them side by side
I sadly shook my head.
To think that this man and his wife
To such extremes should go—
How glad I am that in this life
We never quarrel so!
“Dear me!” thought Boy, “I suppose that is the same Dolly-girl and Tin Soldier that he sang about before. Well, One-and-Nine has the best of the bargain after all, if it is true; I must ask Pierrot about it if I get a chance of speaking to him.”
While the concert was still going on a Messenger arrived from the King of Limesia saying that he was very pleased to have his Portmanteau again, and that he had quite forgiven his daughter for marrying the Prince now, and wished them every joy and happiness; and sent them as a peace-offering a number of Flying Machines, which had just been invented by one of his subjects, and which were most popular at Limesia.
“Flying is now the popular craze of the day in our land,” explained the Messenger, “and the Park is reserved certain hours in the day for the convenience of ‘Flyists.’ Ladies now hold their ‘At Homes’ at the top of the highest trees, and Flying Tours are all the rage.”
The machines, of which forty or fifty were sent, were very simple, and consisted of two large silk and whalebone wings, fastened on to the back with straps. Another strap was fastened at the wrist, and by flapping one’s arms about it was possible to fly quite comfortably.
His Absolute Nothingness the Public Rhymester had to try one first.
“For,” as the Lord High Adjudicator explained, “if he is killed it doesn’t matter in the least.”
He got on very well, though, and then some of the others ventured to try them, and amused themselves and the rest of the Company by flying up into the trees and down again. Boy tried a pair, but thought them very clumsy. I suppose that really they were too big for him.