"To the Palace, sir?" asked the driver.
"Of course unless his h. r. h. is living in a tent somewhere—and hurry up. We didn't engage you for the pleasures of conversation, but to drive us," said the Unwiseman severely.
The amazed cabman whipped up his horse and a short while afterwards reached Buckingham Palace, the home of the King and Queen in London. At either side of the gate was a tall sentry box, and a magnificent red-coated soldier with a high bear-skin shako on his head paced along the path.
"There he is now," said the Unwiseman, excitedly, pointing at the guard. "Isn't he a magnificent sight. Come along and I'll introduce you."
The Unwiseman leapt jauntily out of the hansom and Mollie and Whistlebinkie timidly followed.
"Howdido, Mr. King," said the Unwiseman stepping in front of the sentry and making a profound salaam and almost sweeping the walk with his hat. "We've just arrived in London and have called to pay our respects to you and Mrs. King. I hope the children are well. We're Americans, Mr. King, but for the time being we've decided to overlook all our little differences growing out of the Declaration of Independence and wish you a Merry Fourth of July."
The sentry was dumb with amazement at this unexpected greeting, and the cabby's eyes nearly dropped out of his head they bulged so.
"Mollie, dear," continued Mr. Me, "Come here, my child and let me introduce you to Mr. King. Mr. King, this is a little American girl named Mollie. She's a bit bashful in your h. r. h's presence because between you and me you are the first real King she's ever saw. We don't grow 'em in our country—that is not your kind. We have Cattle Kings and Steel Kings, and I'm expecting to become a Fresh Air King myself—but the kind that's born to the—er—to the purple like yourself, with a gilt crown on his head and the spectre of power in his hand we don't get even at the circus."