The Missing Prince

“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.

“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!”

“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.

“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, dearest Martha 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 which might have 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: —

TO MRS. M. M. N“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 allThat 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.

“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.

CHAPTER VII. – A STRANGE PARLIAMENT

WHEN 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.

The King watched the sights from the Balcony of the Palace, and it was quite late before everybody got to bed and the town was quiet again.

At eleven o’clock the next morning the extraordinary Parliament met, and the King was already seated with the Royal Nurse beside him when the Politicians began to arrive. The Advertiser General looked very funny in a short baby’s frock tied up with blue ribbons, while the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee, being rather tall, had adopted a sailor’s suit, and trundled a hoop. The Lord High Adjudicator had overdone the matter and arrived in a. perambulator accompanied by a nurse carrying a feeding-bottle. All the others were dressed as children too, and most of them carried toys, and the noise of the penny trumpets which many of them blew was quite deafening.

(See Frontispiece).

The little King laughed when he saw them, and declared that it was great fun and much better than such a lot of talking about things that he couldn’t understand.

He ordered that all the seats should be taken out of the hall so that they could play games and use the toys which the Statesmen had brought; he had, moreover, insisted on the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee going down on his hands and knees and giving him a ride on his back all round the room. Then they had gone out on to the Terrace which was outside the House of Words and by which the river ran, and the King had screamed with delight when, at Boy’s suggestion, all the old gentlemen played at leapfrog, doing their best to look dignified in these trying circumstances; then when they were all tired out, they went back to the hall again and sat in a ring on the floor looking quite exhausted, while the King demanded Nursery Rhymes.

The Busybody Extraordinary, who had been exerting himself more than all the others in his efforts to please the King, immediately commenced to repeat the following: —

“Sing a song of sixpence,A pocket full of Rye,About a foolish serving maid,To tell you I will try.“The King was in his counting-houseBemoaning lack of money,The Knave was in the pantryStealing bread and honey.“The Queen was in her tiring-roomJust trying a new dress,‘The last one isn’t paid for yet,’I heard the Queen confess.“The maid was in the gardenHanging out the clothes,While four-and-twenty dicky birdsShe balanced on her nose.“And while the birdies sat there,This maid began to sing.‘I say, you know, I can’t stand that,’Called out the angry King.“The maid she sang so out of tuneIt nearly drove him mad,So the Chamberlain discharged her,And every one was glad.”

“Aren’t you going to repeat the moral?” asked the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee when he had finished.

“There isn’t one,” said the Busybody Extraordinary.

“Yes, there is; in fact, there are four morals to it,” said the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee. “Aren’t there?” he asked, appealing to the others, who nodded.

“What are they then?” said the Busybody Extraordinary.

“Don’t always wear your Sunday clothes,Or it will make you vain.

“That’s one,” replied the Advertiser General.

“Don’t balance birds upon your nose,Or you’ll be thought insane.

“That’s another,” said the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee.

“If any one sings out of tune,It’s not much use to scold.

“That’s the third,” chimed in the First Lord of the Cash Box.

“And if your voice is very harsh,Don’t sing unless you’re told.

“And that’s the fourth,” added the Lord High Adjudicator.

“More,” shouted the King, clapping his hands, and the Kitchen Poker in Waiting got up and said, —

“I know a short one, Your Majesty.”

“Go on,” replied the little King.

“Hey diddle diddle the cat couldn’t fiddle,The cow turned her back on the moon,The little dog said, ‘This is very poor sport,’And the dish had a row with the spoon,”

repeated the Kitchen Poker in Waiting.

“Is that all?” asked the King. “Doesn’t any one else know another?”

“I think,” said Boy, “that I could repeat ‘Simple Simon.’”

“That’s right,” cried His Majesty; “try.”

So Boy began:

“Simple Simon went a-skatingOn a pond in June.‘Dear me,’ he cried, ‘this water’s wet,I fear I’ve come too soon.’“Simple Simon saw a sparrowFlying through the air.‘Why shouldn’t I have wings?’ he cried;‘I’m sure it isn’t fair.’“So simple Simon bought some feathers,Made a pair of wings;And now he’s broken both his legsHe calls them ‘foolish things.’

His Majesty seemed very pleased with this rhyme, and Boy had to say it over again. Then the King proposed a game of blind man’s buff, and they had a fine time in the old Hall, till tea was ready, when they all went out on to the Terrace again and had it served at little tables.

They had the bread and jam cut rather thick because they were all very hungry after their exertions, and as His Majesty drank milk and water, the others were obliged to do the same. Boy could see the Lord High Adjudicator and the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee making very wry faces over it; but it would not have been considered etiquette for them to have tea while the King drank milk and water.

Soon after Tea His Majesty went back to the Palace after telling them all that he had enjoyed himself very much indeed and hoped to see them all the next day.

“That’s all very well,” said the Lord High Adjudicator, when His Majesty and the Royal Nurse had gone, “but I don’t see how the Public affairs can be attended to while this sort of thing goes on. I can quite see that having a King so young as His Majesty may cause us considerable difficulty in the future.”