“Yes, I should think so,” laughed Boy.
The King got down from the throne, and coming close to Boy, whispered in his ear,—
“Would you mind calling me ‘Your Majesty’ when you speak to me, please?” and then went back to his throne again.
“What nonsense!” replied Boy. “I can’t keep addressing everybody as ‘Your Majesty,’ you know, and, besides, I’m as much of a King as you are.”
The Queen looked very severe.
“What shall we do about it, my dear?” asked the King anxiously.
“Send him to the deepest dungeon beneath the Castle Moat,” replied the Queen, waving her hand tragically.
“Yes, we shall really have to do something of that sort, if you don’t treat us with proper respect,” remarked the King warningly.
“What rubbish!” laughed Boy. “Why, you haven’t got a castle moat, or a dungeon either,” and he walked away while the King sat down on the throne with a great air of offended dignity, and the rest of the Royal family resumed their domestic duties.
Out in the town Boy found all the shops closed; for, you see, none of the Kings and Queens would think of working, and so everything was at a standstill.