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WHEN the king awoke in the early morning, he found that a wet
but thoughtful rat had crept into the place during the night and
made a cozy bed for itself in his bosom. Being disturbed now, it
scampered away. The boy smiled, and said, 'Poor fool, why so
fearful? I am as forlorn as thou. 'Twould be a shame in me to hurt the
helpless, who am myself so helpless. Moreover, I owe you thanks for
a good omen; for when a king has fallen so low that the very rats do
make a bed of him, it surely meaneth that his fortunes be upon the
turn, since it is plain he can no lower go.'
He got up and stepped out of the stall, and just then he heard the
sound of children's voices. The barn door opened and a couple of
little girls came in. As soon as they saw him their talking and
laughing ceased, and they stopped and stood still, gazing at him
with strong curiosity; they presently began to whisper together,
then they approached nearer, and stopped again to gaze and whisper. By
and by they gathered courage and began to discuss him aloud. One said:
'He hath a comely face.'
The other added:
'And pretty hair.'
'But is ill clothed enow.'
'And how starved he looketh.'
They came still nearer, sidling shyly around and about him,
examining him minutely from all points, as if he were some strange new
kind of animal; but warily and watchfully the while, as if they half
feared he might be a sort of animal that would bite, upon occasion.
Finally they halted before him, holding each other's hands for
protection, and took a good satisfying stare with their innocent eyes;
then one of them plucked up all her courage and inquired with honest
directness:
'Who art thou, boy?'
'I am the king,' was the grave answer.
The children gave a little start, and their eyes spread themselves
wide open and remained so during a speechless half-minute. Then
curiosity broke the silence:
'The king? What king?'
'The king of England.'
The children looked at each other- then at him- then at each other
again- wonderingly, perplexedly- then one said:
'Didst hear him, Margery?- he saith he is the king. Can that be
true?'
'How can it be else but true, Prissy? Would he say a lie? For look
you, Prissy, an it were not true, it would be a lie. It surely would
be. Now think on't. For all things that be not true, be lies- thou
canst make naught else out of it.'
It was a good, tight argument, without a leak in it anywhere;
and it left Prissy's half-doubts not a leg to stand on. She considered
a moment, then put the king upon his honor with the simple remark:
'If thou art truly the king, then I believe thee.'
'I am truly the king.'
This settled the matter. His majesty's royalty was accepted
without further question or discussion, and the two little girls began
at once to inquire into how he came to be where he was, and how he
came to be so unroyally clad, and whither he was bound, and all
about his affairs. It was a mighty relief to him to pour out his
troubles where they would not be scoffed at or doubted; so he told his
tale with feeling, forgetting even his hunger for the time; and it was
received with the deepest and tenderest sympathy by the gentle
little maids. But when he got down to his latest experiences and
they learned how long he had been without food, they cut him short and
hurried him away to the farmhouse to find a breakfast for him.
The king was cheerful and happy now, and said to himself, 'When
I am come to mine own again, I will always honor little children,
remembering how that these trusted me and believed in me in my time of
trouble; whilst they that were older, and thought themselves wiser,
mocked at me and held me for a liar.'
The children's mother received the king kindly, and was full of
pity; for his forlorn condition and apparently crazed intellect
touched her womanly heart. She was a widow, and rather poor;
consequently she had seen trouble enough to enable her to feel for the
unfortunate. She imagined that the demented boy had wandered away from
his friends or keepers; so she tried to find out whence he had come,
in order that she might take measures to return him; but all her
references to neighbouring towns and villages, and all her inquiries
in the same line, went for nothing- the boy's face, and his answers,
too, showed that the things she was talking of were not familiar to
him. He spoke earnestly and simply about court matters; and broke
down, more than once, when speaking of the late king 'his father'; but
whenever the conversation changed to baser topics, he lost interest
and became silent.
The woman was mightily puzzled; but she did not give up. As she
proceeded with her cooking, she set herself to contriving devices to
surprise the boy into betraying his real secret. She talked about
cattle- he showed no concern; then about sheep- the same result- so
her guess that he had been a shepherd boy was an error; she talked
about mills; and about weavers, tinkers, smiths, trades and
tradesmen of all sorts; and about Bedlam, and jails, and charitable
retreats; but no matter, she was baffled at all points. Not
altogether, either; for she argued that she had narrowed the thing
down to domestic service. Yes, she was sure she was on the right track
now- he must have been a house-servant. So she led up to that. But the
result was discouraging. The subject of sweeping appeared to weary
him; fire-building failed to stir him; scrubbing and scouring awoke no
enthusiasm. Then the goodwife touched, with a perishing hope, and
rather as a matter of form, upon the subject of cooking. To her
surprise, and her vast delight, the king's face lighted at once! Ah,
she had hunted him down at last, she thought; and she was right proud,
too, of the devious shrewdness and tact which had accomplished it.
Her tired tongue got a chance to rest now; for the king's,
inspired by gnawing hunger and the fragrant smells that came from
the sputtering pots and pans, turned itself loose and delivered itself
up to such an eloquent dissertation upon certain toothsome dishes,
that within three minutes the woman said to herself, 'Of a truth I was
right- he hath holpen in a kitchen!' Then he broadened his bill of
fare, and discussed it with such appreciation and animation, that
the goodwife said to herself, 'Good lack! how can he know so many
dishes, and so fine ones withal? For these belong only upon the tables
of the rich and great. Ah, now I see! ragged outcast as he is, he must
have served in the palace before his reason went astray; yes, he
must have helped in the very kitchen of the king himself! I will
test him.'
Full of eagerness to prove her sagacity, she told the king to mind
the cooking a moment- hinting that he might manufacture and add a dish
or two, if he chose- then she went out of the room and gave her
children a sign to follow after. The king muttered:
'Another English king had a commission like to this, in a bygone
time- it is nothing against my dignity to undertake an office which
the great Alfred stooped to assume. But I will try to better serve
my trust than he; for he let the cakes burn.'
The intent was good, but the performance was not answerable to it;
for this king, like the other one, soon fell into deep thinkings
concerning his vast affairs, and the same calamity resulted- the
cookery got burned. The woman returned in time to save the breakfast
from entire destruction; and she promptly brought the king out of
his dreams with a brisk and cordial tongue-lashing. Then, seeing how
troubled he was over his violated trust, she softened at once and
was all goodness and gentleness toward him.
The boy made a hearty and satisfying meal, and was greatly
refreshed and gladdened by it. It was a meal which was distinguished
by this curious feature, that rank was waived on both sides; yet
neither recipient of the favor was aware that it had been extended.
The goodwife had intended to feed this young tramp with broken
victuals in a corner, like any other tramp, or like a dog; but she was
so remorseful for the scolding she had given him, that she did what
she could to atone for it by allowing him to sit at the family table
and eat with his betters, on ostensible terms of equality with them;
and the king, on his side, was so remorseful for having broken his
trust, after the family had been so kind to him, that he forced
himself to atone for it by humbling himself to the family level,
instead of requiring the woman and her children to stand and wait upon
him while he occupied their table in the solitary state due his
birth and dignity. It does us all good to unbend sometimes. This
good woman was made happy all the day long by the applauses she got
out of herself for her magnanimous condescension to a tramp; and the
king was just as self-complacent over his gracious humility toward a
humble peasant woman.
When breakfast was over, the housewife told the king to wash up
the dishes. This command was a staggerer for a moment, and the king
came near rebelling; but then he said to himself, 'Alfred the Great
watched the cakes; doubtless he would have washed the dishes, too-
therefore will I essay it.'
He made a sufficiently poor job of it; and to his surprise, too,
for the cleaning of wooden spoons and trenchers had seemed an easy
thing to do. It was a tedious and troublesome piece of work, but he
finished it at last. He was becoming impatient to get away on his
journey now; however he was not to lose this thrifty dame's society so
easily. She furnished him some little odds and ends of employment,
which he got through with after a fair fashion and with some credit.
Then she set him and the little girls to paring some winter apples;
but he was so awkward at this service that she retired him from it and
gave him a butcher-knife to grind. Afterward she kept him carding wool
until he began to think he had laid the good King Alfred about far
enough in the shade for the present, in the matter of showy menial
heroisms that would read picturesquely in story-books and histories,
and so he was half minded to resign. And when, just after the
noonday dinner, the goodwife gave him a basket of kittens to drown, he
did resign. At least he was just going to resign- for he felt that
he must draw the line somewhere, and it seemed to him that to draw
it at kitten-drowning was about the right thing- when there was an
interruption. The interruption was John Canty- with a peddler's pack
on his back- and Hugo!
The king discovered these rascals approaching the front gate
before they had had a chance to see him; so he said nothing about
drawing the line, but took up his basket of kittens and stepped
quietly out the back way, without a word. He left the creatures in
an outhouse, and hurried on into a narrow lane at the rear.
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