His Majesty seemed interested.
"What is your head made of?" he asked.
"Wax, your Majesty."
"And what are your legs made of?" continued the kinglet.
"One is cork, Sire, and the other—the one I am now standing on—is basswood."
"And your arms?"
"Rubber, my kinglet."
"You may go, General. There is no doubt you were very unwise to get so broken up; but there is nothing left for the Royal Executioner to do."
The girl sighed and felt the edge of her blade; and the old general replaced his head, had his leg and arm again strapped to his body by the guards, and hobbled away after making a low bow before the throne.
