"Novel, indeed, and passing marvellous if achieved, your Majesty," was the suave reply.
"How write you sounds with this device, Master Droop?" she asked.
"Why, thusly, ma'am—your Majesty," said Droop, with renewed courage. "One speaketh, you wot—talketh-like into this hole—this aperture." He turned and pointed to the mouth-piece of the instrument, which was still in Sir Percevall's hands. "Hevin' done this, you wot, this little pin-like pricketh or scratcheth the wax, an' the next time you go over the thing, there you are!"
Conscious of the lameness of this explanation, Droop hurried on, hoping to forestall further questions.
"Let me show ye, my liege, how she works, in sooth," he said, taking the phonograph from the knight. Looking all about, he could see nothing at hand whereon to conveniently rest the device.
"Marry, you wouldn't mind ef I was to set this right here on your table, would ye, my liege?" he asked.
Permission was graciously accorded, and, depositing the phonograph, Droop hurried back to get his records. Holding a wax cylinder in one hand, he proceeded.
"Now, your Majesty can graciously gaze on this wax cylinder," he said. "On here we hev scrawled—written—a tune played by a cornet. It is 'Home, Sweet Home.' Ye've heerd it, no doubt?"
"Nay, the title is not familiar," said the Queen, looking about her. With one accord, the courtiers shook their heads in corroboration.
"Is that so? Well, well! Why, every boy and gal in America knows that tune well!" said Droop.