This little creature was carrying a pail, and apparently varnishing the chairs with a little swab as he moved swiftly about the room; and, as he came nearer, Davy determined to speak to him.
"If you please," he began.
The little man jumped back apparently in the greatest alarm, and, after a startled look at Davy, shuffled rapidly away and disappeared through a door at the further end of the room. The next moment a confused sound of harsh voices came through the door, and the little man reappeared, followed by a perfect swarm of creatures so exactly like himself that it seemed to Davy as if a thousand of him had come back. At this moment a voice called out, "Bring Frungles this way;" and the crowd gathered around him and began to rudely hustle him across the room.
"That's not my name!" cried Davy, struggling desperately to free himself. "It isn't even the name I came in with!"
"THE CROWD BEGAN TO HUSTLE HIM ACROSS THE ROOM."
"Tut! Tut!" said a trembling voice near him; and Davy caught sight of the Hole-keeper, also struggling in the midst of the crowd, with his great book hugged tightly to his breast.
"What does it all mean?" said Davy, anxiously.
"It means that we are to be taken before the king," said the Hole-keeper, in an agitated voice. "Don't say a word until you are spoken to, and then keep perfectly still;" and the next moment they were dragged up to a low platform, where the king was sitting on a gorgeous tin throne. He was precisely like the rest of the creatures, except that he was a little larger, and wore a blue paper coat and a sparkling tin crown, and held in his hand a long white wand, with red lines running screw-wise around it, like a barber's pole. He stared at Davy and the Hole-keeper for a moment, and then called out, "Are the chairs buttered?"
"They are!" shouted the crowd, like one man.