But the cook was not to be daunted.
‘That’s what the likes of you does with your old and faithful servants. Here have I been, day in, day out, work, work, work, like a nigger slave-driver, and this is my reward!’
The King did not listen to the rest. He beckoned to one of the pages and said:
‘Just run and bring a sack and throw it over her head. Be quick!’
The page left the room.
‘There you go,’ said the irrepressible cook. ‘That’s it, send for the police, ye oppressors of the poor. Ugh!’
And she began a fresh volley of abuse. She seemed as if she would never lose her breath. But after a few minutes—it seemed ages to the unfortunate King—the page returned; and although he did not enter very quietly, yet the cook was making such a noise that she did not hear him, and the page, who seemed to enter entirely into the spirit of the thing, dropped the sack quietly over her head, and stopped her flow of language.
‘Now, take her outside and put her out at the back door, and mind and shut the door securely after her,’ remarked the King, with a sigh of relief.
Six of the pages immediately caught hold of her and dragged her out, and the other six were about to follow to see the sport when the King stopped them.