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“What are these for?” inquired Boy.
“Paper for your impressions,” drawled the Clerk. “I suppose you have come to report this meeting, haven’t you?”
“No, indeed I haven’t!” said Boy in alarm.
“Dear me! What have you come for then?” asked the old Clerk in an amazed voice.
“Hush! hush!” called out some one, “His Importance is about to speak,” and the old Clerk hobbled back to his seat, looking more worried than ever, while the gentleman seated at the head of the table, and who Boy found was called The Lord High Adjudicator, arose and made the following speech:—
“Gentlemen, we are met for the purpose of discussing the grave situation caused by the extraordinary absence of His Serene Importance the Crown Prince of Zum——”
“Hereditary Grand Duke of Grumbleberry Plumbhop, Knight of the Order of——” began the King’s Exaggerator, when he was interrupted by the Public Persecutor, who inquired,—
“What’s the use of all that, when there is no one but us to hear you?”
“I must perform my official duties,” remarked the King’s Exaggerator.
“You can have no official duties now that there is no King and the Prince has disappeared,” objected the Public Persecutor.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen, pray don’t argue,” interrupted the Lord High Adjudicator, “or we shall waste all day in discussion. If the King’s Exaggerator wishes to do a little exaggerating on his own account, I am sure no one will object, but he must do it outside and not here; and now, in order that you may understand it all more clearly, I will call upon His Insignificance the Court Poet to read us ‘The Cause of Dismay.’”
The Court Poet, who was a very curious-looking man, was dressed in a tightly-fitting velvet costume with a deep lace collar, and wore his hair very long. He had most prominent eyes, which he rolled about in a grotesque way as he spoke. When thus called upon he arose, and tragically clutching his hair with one hand, he waved the other about frantically, while he began in a shrill voice:—
“Oh, men of Zum, what shall we do?
Our King has no successor;
The Prince has vanished from our view,
And—and-”
“Well, go on!” shouted several voices.
“vanished from our view,
And—and——”
repeated the Court Poet, turning very pale.
“Why don’t you proceed?” inquired the Lord High Adjudicator.
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“I’m afraid I can’t find a rhyme for successor,” admitted the Court Poet, looking greatly confused.
“Dear me! this is the second time this week you have failed in your rhyming,” exclaimed the Lord High Adjudicator impatiently. “It’s most annoying.”
“It’s unbearable,” declared the Public Persecutor.
“If he can’t do his work properly, we had better reduce his salary,” suggested the Busybody Extraordinary.
“Hear, hear!” shouted several voices at once.
“Oh, please don’t!” pleaded the Court Poet. “My stipend is very small as it is.”
“Six pounds a year is a great deal more than you are worth!” declared the First Lord of the Cash Box emphatically.
“So it is, so it is!” agreed the rest of the Committee.
The poor Court Poet looked very crestfallen, while the two gentlemen sitting near him frowned at him severely, the Kitchen Poker in Waiting looking particularly disgusted.
“Ahem! I should like to suggest,” said the Minister of Experiments, coughing importantly and standing up to address the meeting, “that instead of reducing his salary we should reduce his title, and that, instead of his being known as His Insignificance the Court Poet, he should in future be called His Absolute Nothingness the Public Rhymester.”
This proposal seemed to find favour with the whole company, and, being put to the vote, was carried unanimously; and His Absolute Nothingness the Public Rhymester was told to sit down, which he did very meekly, looking half inclined to burst into tears.
“Now then,” said the Lord Chief Adjudicator when this was all over, “we really must get to business; and as the Public Rhymester is not capable of setting forth ‘The Cause of Dismay’ in verse, as is the custom here, I must try and explain to you in prose. The facts, as you are aware, are as follows: Our late Sovereign, King Robert the Twentieth——King of Zum and Emperor of——” began the King’s Exaggerator, evidently intending to enumerate all of the late King’s titles; but he was forcibly prevented from doing so by the two gentlemen sitting next to him, one of whom held him down, while the other tied a handkerchief tightly over his mouth.
The Lord High Adjudicator nodded approval and proceeded.
“Our late Sovereign, King Robert the Twentieth, being deceased, and the Crown Prince having mysteriously disappeared some five years since, and there being no legal successor to the throne, what are we to do for a King? As you are aware, this land has always been governed by a hereditary absolute Monarchy, and His late never-to-be-sufficiently-lamented Majesty left absolutely no relations whatever; what are we to do about the government of the country? That is the question, gentlemen, which we have met here to discuss to-day.”
Almost before the Lord High Adjudicator had finished, every member of the Committee got up excitedly and began to unfold his own particular plan for the government of the land, each trying to drown the other’s voice. The noise was deafening, and the poor old Clerk was so alarmed at the uproar, that he collapsed into his box and was found after the meeting still sitting on the floor with his fingers pressed to his ears and trembling with fright.
For some time the utmost confusion reigned, but at last the Lord High Adjudicator stood up in his chair and motioned them all to sit down, which, after a time, they did.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen, this is disgraceful!” cried the Lord High Adjudicator when order was somewhat restored. “We shall never get on at this rate. Now, one at a time, please.”
The Busybody Extraordinary at once got up and began as follows:—
“I have been preparing a little scheme for the government of Zum, which is bound, I think, to meet with the approval of every one here—it is so delightfully simple, and at the same time so effective. There is no King. Very good,wewill govern the land; we will form ourselves into a Council for the management of everybody’s business in the kingdom, with the power to take over all property, public and private, have control of everything and everybody in the land. Think what a benefit it would be to the Public not to have to worry about anything at all, simply to do as we told them, and think how delightful it would be for us!”
“But would the Public agree to all this?” inquired the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee dubiously.
“The Public,” said the Busybody Extraordinary contemptuously, “will do just whatever we wish it to. It may grumble a little at first, but it will do it all the same.”
“But what shall we be called?” asked the Public Persecutor, who seemed greatly interested in the scheme.
“Well, I was going to propose that we should call ourselves Public Councillors,” replied the Busybody Extraordinary. “Of course, we should have to give up our present Official Titles and simply use our ordinary names with the letters P.C. added. Thus I should be known as Ebenezer Smith, P.C., and you would be Sir Peter Grumble, P.C., and so on.”
“But how would it be possible to manage everybody’s affairs?” inquired another.
“My dear sir,” replied the Busybody Extraordinary, “that is the great point of the whole system—it is as easy as A.B.C. We should of course begin by commanding thatnothing whatever should be done without our sanction;that would simplify matters to start with. Then we should turn our attention to public improvements; for instance, we should begin by pulling down this building and erect for our use some fine Municipal Buildings on a very large and handsome scale, with portraits of ourselves painted on all the windows.”
“But who would pay for them?” objected the First Lord of the Cash Box.
“The Public, of course,” said the Busybody Extraordinary. “What a silly question!”
“But supposing they refused?” persisted the First Lord of the Cash Box.
“The Public refuse to pay rates and taxes?” exclaimed the Busybody Extraordinary. “Who ever heard of such a thing? Really, my dear sir, you are most childish in your remarks. Then,” he continued, “we should pull down all those buildings opposite and make a wide, handsome road, with trees on either side, with a large park at the end of it, beautifully laid out with lakes, etc., where we could drive in the afternoon. Of course, it would have to be railed in or we should have the Public trespassing in it.”
“Wouldn’t the Public expect to be allowed to use the park if they paid for all these improvements?” asked the Advertiser General.
“But they mustn’t expect anything of the sort,” said the Busybody Extraordinary impatiently. “The Public must be taught not to question anything that we do. It will never do for us to be hampered by mere Public opinion, you know; besides, they would not have time to use the park if they wanted to, because they would all be at school.”
“But not grown-up people, surely!” exclaimed the First Gentleman of the Glove Box.
“Why not?” retorted the Busybody Extraordinary. “It will keep them out of mischief, and I am sure some grown-up people require to go to school quite as much as the youngsters. The gymnastic exercises will be so good for them, too—especially the old ones. Why, I have known some old men of eighty, or even ninety, who positively didn’t know how to turn a somersault. Such ignorance is absolutely appalling. And you must be aware that at the present time not more than one-third of the servant-girls of Zum can play the piano. We can’t allow this sort of thing to go on, you know. Then there is too much liberty allowed the Public in the matter of pleasures and entertainments; an occasional tea-party or a spelling-bee ought to satisfy any reasonable Public, and we could insist that in the case of tea-parties a plan of the house should be sent us, and a list of all the invited guests submitted for our approval with their certificates of birth and vaccination. In this way we should gradually get the Public completely under our control, and would hear no more of such nonsense as their presuming to object to anything we chose to do.” And the Busybody Extraordinary sat down triumphantly, but somewhat breathless, after this long speech.
“H’m! there seems to be a great deal to be said in favour of his scheme,” said the Lord High Adjudicator thoughtfully.
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“A most brilliant proposal,” agreed the Public Persecutor enthusiastically.
“There is only one thing,” said the Kitchen Poker in Waiting, getting up and addressing the Meeting generally, “that I should like to suggest, and that is, that instead of this proposed Public Council a King should be elected from our number, and although I don’t wish to boast, I feel sure that there is no one in the entire assembly who would fill the position more ably and with greater dignity than myself.”
“It’s like your cheek!” exclaimed the First Groom of the Boot Brushes. “I should think if any one is elected King I ought to stand before you.”
There was evidently going to be a squabble unless the Lord High Adjudicator interfered, and he had just arisen in his seat for that purpose when there was a knock at the door, and an attendant entered.
“Av ye plaze, yer honours, there’s a woman and a bit of a child wanting to see yer honours on a mather of importance,” he said.
“What nonsense!” exclaimed the Lord High Adjudicator. “Tell the woman that we are engaged.”
“I did, yer honour,” exclaimed the attendant, “and she wouldn’t take the answer, but told me to bring yez this bit of a letter.”
The Lord High Adjudicator took the note which the attendant handed him, and after reading a few lines jumped up excitedly.
“Show her in at once,” he cried; and when the attendant had gone out of the room he announced, in a voice trembling with excitement: “She says that she has news of the Crown Prince.”
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HE Lord High Adjudicator had barely made this announcement when the attendant returned, followed by a rosy-cheeked woman in a very bright shawl and a bonnet with an enormous quantity of flowers and feathers on it. She had little black corkscrew curls hanging down on either side of her face, and was leading a little boy of about four years of age by the hand: he was very beautifully dressed, and was a charming little fellow with short golden curls and a chubby, little, smiling face.
The woman stopped at the door and made a curtsey, while the little boy looked about him with great curiosity.
“Mrs. Martha Matilda Nimpky, widow, gentlemen,” announced the woman, “and His Little Royal Highness, the son of the Crown Prince of Zum.”
“Bless me, my good lady, you don’t say so!” said the Lord High Adjudicator, jumping up from his chair and offering it to the woman, while the Busybody Extraordinary fussed about and placed another chair by its side with his cloak over it to make it look something like a throne for His Little Royal Highness.
“Yes, gentlemen, I have a strange story indeed to tell you,” said Mrs. Martha Matilda Nimpky when they had all settled down again.
“Before you begin, I should like to ask, is His Royal Highness the Crown Prince alive and well?” asked the Lord High Adjudicator anxiously.
“Well, I can hardly tell you, sir,” replied Mrs. Martha Matilda Nimpky. “He’s invisible.”
“Invisible!” exclaimed everybody in surprise.
Mrs. Martha Matilda Nimpky nodded mysteriously, and drew the little Prince closer to her so that she could put one arm around him.
“The Crown Prince of Zum and his dear lady, who was the Princess of Limesia, have both been rendered invisible by the King of Limesia’s Magician, Ohah!”
“Dear me, how very shocking!” exclaimed the Lord High Adjudicator, while the rest of the Committee displayed the greatest of interest.
“Yes, gentlemen, it happened in this way,” continued Mrs. Martha Matilda Nimpky. “When your Crown Prince started on his travels about five years ago, he came to Limesia, and seeing our dear Princess, at once fell in love with her and wished to marry her. The King of Limesia, however, who was still angry about that affair of the Portmanteau——”
“Yes, yes, we know about it,” exclaimed the Lord High Adjudicator, nodding violently.
“Well,” continued Mrs. Martha Matilda Nimpky, “the King of Limesia wouldn’t hear of their getting married, so as they were very much in love with each other they were married secretly and lived in concealment until about three months ago, when your King of Zum died and the Prince thought that he ought to come home and be crowned King. But before they started, he, and the Princess went to the King of Limesia to beg his forgiveness. Instead of forgiving them, though, he flew into a fearful passion, and summoning Ohah, the Magician, he ordered him to cast a spell upon both of them so that they might gradually become invisible. Poor dears! I shall never forget that day when they drove home from the Palace, looking very indistinct about the head, and told me what had happened; for you must understand I have been living with them ever since they were married, first as the dear Princess’s Maid, then as Nurse to the dear little Prince here.”
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“Well, as I was saying, the Prince told me all about it. ‘Nimpky,’ he said—that was the way he always addressed me, gentlemen—‘Nimpky, it will be useless now for me to go to Zum. I am quite sure that an invisible King would be a great trial to my poor subjects, and I feel more and more shadowy every hour. You must take the little Prince’—meaning this little lamb, gentlemen—‘You must take the little Prince to Zum and tell the Lord High Adjudicator all about it, and give him this signet-ring, which he will recognise as having belonged to me, and see that the little Prince is made King, because he is the lawful successor to my father’s throne.-’ Those were his very words, gentlemen, and soon after his head disappeared entirely, so that he was unable to speak. The poor dear Princess disappeared too, a bit at a time, and although for a day or two we could understand them a little by the signs which they made,, they eventually became so indistinct that we could scarcely see them at all. The dear Princess’s left foot was the last thing to go, and that remained visible for some days after the rest of her body had disappeared. People used to come from miles, I assure you, gentlemen, to see her Royal Highness’s foot, for she was greatly beloved by all the people at Limesia, and now, out of respect for her, all the ladies have taken to going about with their feet bare like the Princess’s; for I must tell you, gentlemen, that our Princess was noted for her beautiful feet, and had never worn shoes in her life, only sandals when she walked abroad. Poor dear! I often think there must have been something she wanted to tell me very much, by the way in which her big toe wriggled about just before the foot entirely disappeared, which was only ten days ago.” And Mrs. Martha Matilda Nimpky put her handkerchief to her eyes.
“Well, gentlemen,” she continued, after a time, “I waited until the last symptom of my dear Prince and Princess had vanished, and then I journeyed here to fulfil the Prince’s wish. I had to be very careful about it too, for if that old King knew about the little Prince (which fortunately he does not) he would have caused him to have been made invisible too. Now there’s one thing I should like to beg of you, gentlemen, and that is that you will allow me to continue to be Nurse to His Little Royal Highness, for I am greatly attached to the dear little fellow and Mrs. Martha Matilda Nimpky took the little Prince on to her lap and lovingly brushed the little golden curls from his forehead.
“Dear me! dear me! this is a very extraordinary story,” said the Lord High Adjudicator. “May I see the signet-ring, please?” he asked.
“Certainly, sir; here it is,” replied Mrs. Martha Matilda Nimpky, handing him a very curiously wrought golden ring.
“Yes, that belonged to His Royal Highness, sure enough,” declared the Lord High Adjudicator; “and now that I look more closely at the little boy I can see that he bears a remarkable likeness to the Crown Prince.”
“Long live the King!” shouted the Busybody Extraordinary suddenly; and everybody else got up and joined in the cry, “Long live the King! Long live the King!” till the rafters rang again.
The little Prince looked somewhat alarmed at all the shouting, but he was a brave little fellow, and only said to Mrs. Martha Matilda Nimpky,—
“Nurse, what do all those mans make that noise for?”
The Nurse said something to quiet him, and they all sat down again; and then the Lord High Adjudicator, after conferring with some of the other gentlemen, said,—
“Mrs. Martha Matilda Nimpky, on behalf of the rest of the Committee and myself, I should like to say that we think you have behaved in a very praiseworthy manner in obeying His Invisible Highness’ wishes so. carefully, and we shall be very glad indeed if you will accept the post of Grand Perpetual Nurse to the King of Zum (for of course His Royal Highness will be crowned to-morrow) at a suitable salary and a choice of apartments in the Royal Palace.”
“Hear, hear!” shouted several of the Committee, while the Kitchen Poker in Waiting foolishly started singing, “For she’s a jolly good fellow,” and was promptly suppressed.
“I shall be delighted, gentlemen, to accept ‘the position!” said Mrs. Martha Matilda Nimpky, looking greatly pleased.
“Then there is nothing further to be done but to conduct you to the Palace and to make preparations for His Royal Highness’ Coronation to-morrow,” said the Lord High Adjudicator, leading the way to the door.
The Royal Nurse took the Prince’s hand, and was preparing to follow, when the little fellow caught sight of Boy, who had been sitting with One-and-Nine and the M.D. listening with the greatest attention to all that was going on.
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“Who’s that boy, Nurse?” asked the Prince.
“Hush, dear, I don’t know,” said the Royal Nurse.
“But I want him to come and play with me,” demanded His Royal Highness, “and that Soldier man, too.”
“My dear, you must be a good boy and come with Nurse. Perhaps another day the little boy will be allowed to play with you,” said the Royal Nurse, trying to lead him along.
“But I want him to come now, Nurse dear,” persisted the little Prince.
“If His Royal Highness desires it,” suggested the Busybody in Extraordinary, “you had better let the boy accompany you to the Palace. When His Royal Highness is made King to-morrow, you know, his wishes will have to be obeyed absolutely.”
So Boy and One-and-Nine were told to follow the others into the Palace, which joined the House of Words, and which was a very magnificent place. A large crowd of Servants were in the Hall, and outside Boy could hear shouts of “Long live the King! Long live the King!” For the news of the little Prince’s arrival had travelled quickly, and the people were all delighted to welcome a grandson of the late King, who had been greatly beloved, notwithstanding a very awkward circumstance about a Portmanteau, which, perhaps, I will tell you later on.
The little Prince and the Royal Nurse were conducted up the grand staircase, the Prince turning around to Boy and saying, “Good-night, little Boy, I’m sleepy tired now, but I shall see you to-morrow,” while Boy and One-and-Nine were led in another direction to a suite of rooms overlooking a beautiful garden. Here they were served with a bountiful supper by a Footman, who had been set apart to wait upon them only. His name, Boy found out, was Cæsar Maximilian Augustus Claudius Smith, but he was called Thomas for short. Thomas was a very nice man, Boy thought, and although he seemed to think a great deal of himself he was very kind to them.
After they had finished supper and Thomas had cleared away the supper things, Boy noticed that One-and-Nine seemed very quiet.
“Is there anything the matter?” he asked anxiously.
“I am afraid,” remarked One-and-Nine sadly, “that she will never condescentionise to affectionate me.”
“Who?” exclaimed Boy.
“That majestuous lady, the Royal Nurse,” said One-and-Nine, sighing sentimentally.
“You don’t mean to say that you have fallen in love with her, surely?” said Boy, feeling greatly inclined to laugh.
“Who could help it?” declared the Wooden Soldier. “I am completely smot!”
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“Smot! What’s that?” asked Boy.
“Smite, smitten, smot,” exclaimed One-and-Nine.
“And what a charmaceous name, too,” he continued—“Martha Matilda Nimpky. How lovelyish! Do you think she cares for me even a smallish bit?”
“Well, I’m afraid she scarcely saw you, you know,” said Boy. “Perhaps she will when she knows you better,” he added, wishing to comfort the poor lovesick soldier.
“Do you think it would be wise to send her a love-letter?” asked One-and-Nine anxiously, “or an Ode,” he suggested, brightening up. “Yes, I’ll write her an Ode—that’s what I’ll do.”
“I’m afraid I don’t quite know what an Ode is,” admitted Boy; “but I suppose it won’t do any harm to send it.”
“Oh, an Ode is a kind of Poemish letter that people send when they are in love. I’ve Oded before,” said One-and-Nine, giggling foolishly.
“What shall you say?” inquired Boy.
“Well, let me see,” said One-and-Nine. “In Oding a lady you have to think of what you most admire in her, and take that as your subject. The last time I Oded, you know, it was about Miss Dolly-girl’s eyes. It began thusly:
“‘The Rose is red, the Violet’s blue,
But neither have such eyes as you.
Yours are the kind I most admire;
They shut and open with a wire.’
Miss Dolly-girl told me she was much flatterated by the complimentation.”
A knock at the door interrupted the conversation at this point, and on Boy’s calling out “Come in,” to their great surprise His Absolute Nothingness the Public Rhymester entered. He was weeping, and carried an enormous pocket-handkerchief, which he put to his eyes every now and then.
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“I heard that you were greatly in favour with the young Prince,” he began, in a broken voice, “and thought I would ask you if you would kindly try and have me restored to my position as Court Poet again. I assure you I am not really half as bad as they tried to make out at the Committee Meeting this morning. The fact of the matter was I had just received a great shock, and it had driven all the poetry out of my head. Just as I was starting in the morning my wife told me that the cook had left and the man had called for the taxes. It was enough to upset any one, wasn’t it?”
“Well,” said Boy, who was a kind-hearted little fellow, “I don’t know that we can do much for you, but I will certainly speak to the Prince on your behalf to-morrow if you wish.”
“Oh, thank you! thank you very much, sir,” said the Public Rhymester, brightening up at once, and vainly trying to stuff his handkerchief, which was quite as large as a small table-cloth, into his pocket. “And if I can ever do anything for you, write you a Valentine, you know, or your Epitaph, I shall be only too delighted.” One-and-Nine, who had been sitting bolt upright while this conversation was going on, seemed to be suddenly-struck with a bright inspiration.
“Are you an Oder?” he asked abruptly of the Public Rhymester.
“An Oder?” repeated he vaguely. “What’s that?”
“A person who writes Odes, of course,” replied the Wooden Soldier; “because, if you are, I should be greatly obligated if you would kindly write one for me. I intentionized writing it myself, but I have been considerizing that it would be more properish to have it written by a real Poet.”
“Oh, thank you, sir, thank you!” cried the Public Rhymester gratefully, “it is very kind indeed of you to say that. A poor Poet, you know, gets very little praise from any one nowadays, especially a Minor one, such as I am. Why, a Grand Old Statesman said the other day—but there, I mustn’t let you into State Secrets. What is the subject upon which you wish me to write?”
“Oh,—a—a—lady,” said One-and-Nine bashfully, blushing up to the roots of his green paint.
“Of course,” said the Public Rhymester smilingly; “it usually is.”
“And particularly about er—er—a—the corkscrew curls, you know,” said One-and-Nine, stammering nervously. “Such delightfulish fascinationizing curls—six on each side, you know—and they woggle when she shakes her head—oh, dearest,dearestMartha Matilda,” and the poor Wooden Soldier seemed quite overcome by his emotions.
“Ah! these military men, these military men,” said the Public Rhymester, shaking his head, “what susceptible creatures they are, to be sure, always in love with some fair one or other! But there, we must do the best we can for him, I suppose. What is the lady’s name?” he inquired.
“Mrs. Martha Matilda Nimpky,” replied One-and-Nine faintly.
“What! the Royal Nurse?” exclaimed the Public Rhymester in surprise.
The Wooden Soldier nodded his head.
“Well, I hope you’ll win her,” said the Public Rhymester, “though I think it’s only fair to warn you that you must expect to have a great many rivals. Don’t you see,” he went on, “being Nurse to the little King, she is sure to have immense influence over him, and so will be one of the most important people in the kingdom. Oh, she’s sure to have no end of suitors; however, you are first in the field, and a handsome military man like yourself ought to stand a good chance. Now don’t speak to me for a few moments while I write the poem for you.”
The Wooden Soldier and Boy sat perfectly still while the Public Rhymester took a note-book and pencil from his pocket and began to walk rapidly up and down the apartment, pausing now and then to jot something down in his book, and occasionally clutching his hair and rolling his eyes about violently. Once Boy sneezed, and the Public Rhymester glared at him fiercely and then told him that he had entirely driven a beautiful word whichmighthave rhymed with cucumber out of his head, and he would have to alter the whole verse. At last, however, the poem was finished and the Public Rhymester proudly read as follows:—
“Oh, Martha most majestic,
Matilda quite sublime,
For thee I’d do the bravest deeds,
Most giddy heights would climb.
“Oh! almond rock’s delicious,
And so is clotted cream,
And Birthday Cake is not so bad;
But these things tasteless seem;
“For I have seen Matilda,
And other joys have fled,
Her dazzling beauty’s vanquished me,
And turned my wooden head.
“I love thee, dear Matilda,
Far more than other girls,
For there’s not one amongst them all
That wears such corkscrew curls.
“Such lovely little corkscrew curls,
Just six on either side,
That woggle when you shake your head—
Oh, will you be my bride?”
“Isn’t the last line rather abrupteous?” inquired One-and-Nine when he had finished.
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“Why, that’s the best part about it,” replied the Public Rhymester. “You see you pop the question so suddenly that you quite take the lady by storm—and that line comparing her to ‘other girls’ is very wise, you know; she is sure to feel flattered at that.”
“Do you think that I ought to sign my name at the bottom of it?” asked One-and-Nine, folding the paper up neatly.
“I shouldn’t if I were you,” replied the Public Rhymester. “You can see what effect this has upon the lady, and if you think that she is pleased, I should follow it up with another, but I shouldn’t sign my name at first; it will make it a little mysterious, you know, and ladies like that sort of thing, I am told. But now I must be off. Good-night. You won’t forget to do the best you can for me to-morrow, will you?” and the Public Rhymester hurried away with his enormous handkerchief tucked under his arm, while One-and-Nine sealed up the Poem—after adding the following words, which he thought might improve it:
“The rose is red, the violet’s blue,
Sardines are nice, and so are you”—
and handed it to Caesar Maximilian Augustus Claudius Smith (called Thomas for short), to deliver, and then, after saying good-night to Boy, retired to his own room, which was on the other side of the corridor.
Boy sat up a little while longer, thinking of all the strange things which had been happening; and then he followed the Wooden Soldier’s example and went to rest too.
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HEN Boy awoke the next morning he found the whole Palace in a commotion. Most of the Royal Household had been up all night making grand preparations for the Coronation of the young King. Out in the courtyard he could see the great gilded State Coach being dusted and brushed, while footmen and stewards were rushing about on all sorts of errands.
Boy heard from One-and-Nine that a carriage had been provided for them to join in the procession, which was to be a very extensive one. Animals were coming in of their own accord from all parts of the country to take part in it, and in the Park Boy was very much amused to see a worried-looking goose trying to teach a number of cocks and hens to march properly. The cocks were getting on famously, and held their heads up and stepped out bravely, but the hens would stop to peck at every worm and insect that they passed.
Several bands were practising in various parts of the grounds, and as they were all playing different tunes at the same time, the music was rather confusing.
Quite early in the morning the Lord High Adjudicator and most of the Court officials whom Boy had previously seen, arrived and began squabbling as to the order in which they should follow in the procession. The Advertiser General and the Public Rhymester were talking very excitedly about something or other. When the latter saw Boy he hurried up to him and said anxiously, “I hope you haven’t spoken to the Prince about me yet?”
“No,” replied Boy, “I haven’t seen him this morning.”
“Ah, that’s all right then,” said the Public Rhymester, with a sigh of relief. “The Advertiser General has been explaining to me that I can earn ever so much more money as a Public Rhymester than a Court Poet, for you see I shall now be able to write poems for advertising purposes; and he has already given me orders for several. I have to write a poem on ‘Pea Soup for the Complexion,’ ‘Kofe’s Hair Restorer for making the hair grow on worn-out brooms and brushes,’ and a new Soap which ‘won’t wash clothes’ or anything else—that’s pretty good for a start, isn’t it? So please don’t say anything about my having the position of Court Poet restored to me, for I don’t think that I would accept the post if it was offered me;” and the Public Rhymester went back to the Advertiser General again.
Boy could see that the carriages were beginning to form in a line, so he thought that it was time for him to get ready, and hurrying back to his apartments, found One-and-Nine waiting for him.
Soon after this the procession started, and before getting into the carriage with the Wooden Soldier Boy had a capital view of the young Prince as he entered the State Coach accompanied by the Royal Nurse. The dear little fellow looked very charming in a little white velvet suit with diamond buttons and buckles, and wore a plumed cap which he raised politely as the people cheered him along the route. Mrs. Martha Matilda Nimpky, too, looked very important in a yellow satin gown, with a bonnet trimmed with ribbons of all the colours of the rainbow.
Poor One-and-Nine was more lovesick than ever when he beheld her, and scarcely noticed the beautiful decorations in the streets. Boy, however, was charmed with them. Flags and banners and triumphal arches were to be seen on all sides as they passed along, and Boy wondered how they could possibly have put them up in so short a time.
The Coronation ceremony itself was a very imposing one, and it was a beautiful sight to see the little King in his royal robes and crown and sceptre, whilst the people shouted most enthusiastically, “Long live the King, long live King Robert the Twenty-first” till they were hoarse. Then they had all gone with the Court dignitaries to the House of Words, where an address was read by the Lord High Adjudicator; but by this time the poor little King was very tired indeed, and said that “he didn’t want to hear all those old gentlemen talk any more.”
Of course this was rather awkward, as there were several more State matters to be attended to, and the Royal Nurse tried to persuade the little King to stop and listen to them.
“These gentlemen, Your Majesty,” said she, “are going to help you to be King and show you how to govern your subjects wisely; you must hear what they have to say.”
“But I don’t want them,” said His Majesty rebelliously, “I want some little boys to come to help me be King, not all these old gentlemans; and now I want to go back to the Palace and have my tea,” and the little King got off the throne and toddled away with the Royal Nurse after him.
“Well, here’s a pretty kettle of fish,” said the Lord High Adjudicator when they had gone. “Of course as he is King he will have to be obeyed, but a parliament of children is positively absurd; and, besides, where shall we be? I can’t think what’s to be done.”
“I suppose we couldn’t dress up as children, could we?” suggested the Advertiser General after a pause.
“The very thing, of course,” said the Lord High Adjudicator, delighted with this solution of the difficulty, and the meeting broke up in some disorder, after it had been arranged that they should all meet next morning attired as children and see if that would please the King.
In the evening there were fireworks and illuminations and a carnival in the streets, which people attended dressed in all sorts of fantastic garments.
Boy drove with One-and-Nine through the town to see the sights; everybody was provided with paper bags filled with “confetti” (which in this case were tiny little round pieces of coloured paper), with which they pelted each other. Boy quite enjoyed the fun, and tired himself out throwing confetti at the people as they passed, and getting handfuls thrown back at him, till the carriage was nearly filled with gaily coloured scraps of paper.