Quite early in the morning he and Killian went into the city, and set up their stage in a corner of the marketplace. The wonderful acting of the little king and queen, compared with the ungainly hobblings and jerkings of the odd man, threw the townspeople into ecstasies of laughter. They declared they had never seen so funny a sight in their lives as the beautiful nervous acting of the pair, side by side with the stiff-jointed awkwardness of the other.
Presently, sure enough, the queen heard tell of this new form of entertainment, and sent word for the mummers to appear at the palace.
Killian said to his partner: 'There is something the matter with the puppets to-day; they want careful handling. I am glad we settled that you are to do the new play; for, before the queen and her great ladies, I am likely to lose my head.'
All the court was gathered together to watch the puppet-play, while behind the scenes the partner took all the leading strings into his own hands.
The two marionettes opened their eyes, and saw daylight; they began moving to and fro softly; every now and then they put their faces together and kissed. The stupid odd man seemed to have gone; they were so glad to be left alone.
Soon the little king lay down, pretending to be tired, but it was only that he might put his head in the queen's lap. She bent over him, and laid her fingers on his eyes, seeming to say, 'Go to sleep, then! I will shut your eyes for you.' How pretty it was of her!
Then she covered his face over with her handkerchief; and all at once in came the odd man, walking on the points of his toes. The little king, now that the handkerchief was over his face, opened his eyes, and looked through it, to see what his dear queen would be doing now. The odd man had his arms round her neck, and was kissing her, and the queen looked as if she were going to kiss him back; but all at once she had pushed away the odd man so hard that he fell down with his heels in the air; and then she snatched the handkerchief from the king's face, and began trembling, and kissing him.
The whole of the court shouted, first with laughter at the odd man's fall, and then with admiration at the wonderful acting of the little queen.
Behind the scenes the partner began grumbling to Killian: 'They are going all wrong! It's all your doing, leaving them to lie in the damp grass last night!'
But still the whole court shouted and applauded. So the play went on; and now, more and more, the showman had cause to grumble. Whenever he came to a part where the play required that the queen should turn from her own cow-herd to the ugly odd man, everything went wrong. 'Very well,' thought he at last, 'she may be as innocent as Desdemona but it will all come to the same at the last!'