"Hail! Cedric, King of Fairyland!"
"K-K-King of Fairyland!" stammered the boy in bewilderment. "Am I King of Fairyland? You're only making fun—I've only been flying my kite: I can't be a king."
"Of course your young Majesty has got the key?" remarked a funny little old man at his elbow.
"Yes," replied Cedric, starting at the suddenness of the answer to his question, but vastly surprised, and amused too, at the quaint way in which he was addressed.
"Very well, then. Of course we all know you must have found it, or you couldn't be here. I'd far rather you had it than I; experience has taught me that much. Good morning, young gentleman; may it bring you more pleasure than it brought me," and with a chuckle the little old man bowed himself away.
Cedric had no time to think, for a gorgeous equipage stopped just in front of him. The door flew open; the boy, guessing what was expected of him, quickly stepped inside, and, wondering at this grandeur, the new King of Fairyland was borne swiftly through the serried ranks of his bowing subjects to the doors of his magnificent palace. Soldiers presented arms, a national air was played on lutes and harps, and Cedric passed through the gates, followed by as many of the populace as had tickets of admission to witness the most wonderful coronation you never saw.
"Of course your young Majesty has got the key?"
PART II