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"Where the word of a King is, there is power: And who may say unto him What doest thou?" "Yeth! And Chimo to sleep at ve foot of ve bed, and ve pink pikky-book, and ve bwead 'cause I will be hungwy in ve night and vat's all, Miss Biddums. And now give me one kiss and I'll go to sleep. So! Kite quiet. Ow! Ve pink pikky-book has slidded under ve pillow and ve bwead is cwumbling! Miss Biddums!

Miss Biddums was out and the bearer undressed him. The sin of the "'parkle cwown" was forgotten in the acuteness of the discomfort to which he roused after a leaden sleep of some hours, He was thirsty, and the bearer had forgotten to leave the drinking-water. "Miss Biddums! Miss Biddums! I'm so kirsty!" No answer, Miss Biddums had leave to attend the wedding of a Calcutta schoolmate.

Is it worth it, darling?" "Kiss me too," said His Majesty the King, dreamily. "You isn't vevy angwy, is you?" The fever burned itself out, and His Majesty the King slept. When he waked, it was in a new world peopled by his father and mother as well as Miss Biddums: and there was much love in that world and no morsel of fear, and more petting than was good for several little boys.

The dread secret cut him off from Miss Biddums, Patsie, and the Commissioner's wife, and doubly hard fate when he brooded over it Patsie said, and told her mother, that he was cross. The days were very long to His Majesty the King, and the nights longer still.

And he put it upon the hall-table, said that there was no answer, and departed. Presently, the pattern of the dado ceased to interest His Majesty, while the packet, a white, neatly wrapped one of fascinating shape, interested him very much indeed. His Mamma was out, so was Miss Biddums, and there was pink string round the packet. He greatly desired pink string.

Now and again Miss Biddums begged for him the rare pleasure of a day in the society of the Commissioner's child the wilful four-year-old Patsie, who, to the intense amazement of His Majesty the King, was idolized by her parents.

Miss Biddums! I'm so uncomfy! Come and tuck me up, Miss Biddums." His Majesty the King was going to bed; and poor, patient Miss Biddums, who had advertised herself humbly as a "young person, European, accustomed to the care of little children," was forced to wait upon his royal caprices.

Miss Biddums obediently stooped to the lowest shelf of the almirah and unearthed the big paper box in which His Majesty the King kept his dearest possessions. Under the tin soldiers, and a layer of mud pellets for a pellet-bow, winked and blazed a diamond star, wrapped roughly in a half-sheet of note-paper whereon were a few words.

"He doesn't laugh," he argued with Miss Biddums, who would fain have taught him charity. "He only makes faces wiv his mouf, and when he wants to o-muse me I am not o-mused." And His Majesty the King shook his head as one who knew the deceitfulness of this world.

Then every one seemed to go away every one except the huge man in black and white, who carried him back to his bed; the mother and father following. And the sin of the "'parkle cwown" rushed back and took possession of the terrified soul. "I'm a fief!" he gasped. "I want to tell Miss Biddums vat I'm a fief. Vere is Miss Biddums?" Miss Biddums had come and was bending over him.