“Let ’em come, Wamby!” shouted Harry.
As the door flew open, Harry stepped forward with a stern, commanding look, and held up the royal hat-pin. The soldiers stopped, looked in bewilderment at the crown on his head, and then bowed low to the floor.
“Drop your spears! Rise! March into that chamber!” cried Harry. The terrified soldiers instantly obeyed. “Kitey,” called Harry, “have some of our men arm themselves with those spears, and follow me.”
By this time a large crowd of the elves in the Hall had gathered about the doorway.
“Clear the way to my throne,” commanded Harry, addressing his fifty armed men. “Come, Wamby,” he continued, and marching solemnly forward, he ascended the steps to the throne and seated himself, motioning Wamby to a seat on his right, and Kitey to one on his left.
“Now,” began Harry,—and then he suddenly stopped and glared at Wamby, whose face showed an almost irresistible tendency to burst out laughing.
“What are you grinning at?” demanded Harry sternly.
“Please excuse me, master,” said Wamby; “but you do look awfully funny!”
He certainly did look comical. The King’s mantle was like a little baby’s cape on his shoulders, and the collar of it would not reach half-way around his neck. Wamby’s pointed hat was so small that it simply perched on top of his head. And the crown, with the hat poking through it, while it was very beautiful, with its gold and diamonds and rubies, yet looked like some little toy crown.
As Harry thought of it all, he nearly burst out laughing himself, especially when he noticed how solemnly he was holding up that ridiculous hat-pin sceptre. But of course he realized that it would never do to laugh as long as he was king, so he frowned very hard at Wamby, and said in a solemn tone, to one of his fifty armed men, “Cause all of the Pin Elves to assemble in my presence. Take some soldiers with you and bring hither also the former King and Smithkin.”