The Queen smelled of her salts and grew paler every moment.
One pie had a musical box inside and played a sweet tune as it passed the King. In one was hidden a tiny dwarf, who popped out like a jack-in-the-box when the Queen pulled a golden cord.
Still the procession moved on, and so did the hands of the clock; and the King's hands moved to his ample girdle, which he tightened sharply. But both he and the pale young Queen were too polite to ask the Lord Mayor for buns or something to sustain them.
The pie which caused the greatest excitement as it passed along, drawn by four white horses, was that of Roger, the master cook, who walked proudly beside it. When it came opposite the King the carriage stopped, the cover was lifted, and ten beautiful babies on a bed of roses waved their little hands and began to sing.
The Queen leaned forward eagerly, forgetting to be hungry. "How sweet! The darlings!" she murmured. "Oh, this is the best of all!"
Roger the cook heard her and flushed with triumph.
But the King grumbled: "Humph! They look good enough to eat, but--my faith! I hope that this is the end, for soon I must eat something, or I shall become a cannibal!"
"Your Majesty!" protested the Queen, faintly.
But the King interrupted her.
"What comes here?" he cried. "This looks sensible!" It was Rafe and the pretty maid bringing up the rear of the procession. Side by side they walked in cap and apron, he bearing the small, delicately browned pie, she with a jug of yellow cream. No one paid any attention to them, but closed in around them, following Roger's chariot.