"Very well," said the gingerbread knight. "But if it's no better than the last you shall be discharged. Is it not so, your Majesty?"
"Quite so," laughed the kinglet.
The Poet nervously scribbled another set of lines, which he read in a voice that trembled with fear:
"The Gingerbread Man is so sweet,
To eat him would be a rare treat;
He's crisp and well spiced,
And you'd find, were he sliced,
That the eggs in him cannot be beat!"
"That's better," said John, "but I'm not sure about the eggs, as I did not pay much attention when I was mixed. However, this sincere tribute to my excellence will save you from my displeasure, and you may go free."
The Poet did not wait an instant, but ran from the hall as fast as his legs would carry him.
The kinglet now dismissed the Failings, who left the royal presence quarrelling and threatening one another, and making so much noise and uproar that the gingerbread man was glad to see them go.
"Aren't they nice?" asked the kinglet, looking after them. "I'd like to drown them all in the castle moat, like kittens; but every kinglet, they say, has his Failings, so I suppose I must keep mine."
He sighed, and continued: "But what did the Poet's sonnet say about your being crisp and well spiced, and rather good eating were you sliced?"
"Don't pay any attention to that, your Majesty!" said John, hastily.