Of course this was rather awkward, as there were several more State matters to be attended to, and the Royal Nurse tried to persuade the little King to stop and listen to them.
“These gentlemen, Your Majesty,” said she, “are going to help you to be King and show you how to govern your subjects wisely; you must hear what they have to say.”
“But I don’t want them,” said His Majesty rebelliously, “I want some little boys to come to help me be King, not all these old gentlemans; and now I want to go back to the Palace and have my tea,” and the little King got off the throne and toddled away with the Royal Nurse after him.
“Well, here’s a pretty kettle of fish,” said the Lord High Adjudicator when they had gone. “Of course as he is King he will have to be obeyed, but a parliament of children is positively absurd; and, besides, where shall we be? I can’t think what’s to be done.”
“I suppose we couldn’t dress up as children, could we?” suggested the Advertiser General after a pause.
“The very thing, of course,” said the Lord High Adjudicator, delighted with this solution of the difficulty, and the meeting broke up in some disorder, after it had been arranged that they should all meet next morning attired as children and see if that would please the King.
In the evening there were fireworks and illuminations and a carnival in the streets, which people attended dressed in all sorts of fantastic garments.
Boy drove with One-and-Nine through the town to see the sights; everybody was provided with paper bags filled with “confetti” (which in this case were tiny little round pieces of coloured paper), with which they pelted each other. Boy quite enjoyed the fun, and tired himself out throwing confetti at the people as they passed, and getting handfuls thrown back at him, till the carriage was nearly filled with gaily coloured scraps of paper.
