In the throne-room, on a throne of diamonds, Cedric sat in royal robes, and on his head was a golden crown, which had been taken, as being about his size, from the dome of the Crown Palace. Grouped near him were the aristocracy of Fairyland—prominent among them the Crown Princess, and her great friend and neighbour, the Queen of Gossamerland, both young, both beautiful, and both unmarried.
When the ceremony was over, and the shout, "Hail! Cedric, King of Fairyland!" echoed once more, the boy, prompted by the Lord High Chamberlain, rose and bowed his delighted acknowledgments, while the crowds outside cheered for all they were worth. He kept standing, in order to receive the general homage, with the quiet confidence of one who had been used to that sort of thing every day of his life.
Little did he guess that the populace of Fairyland, who were acclaiming him, down to the tiniest sprite, were far from pleased to have a mortal on their throne—that the gnomes were plotting, with the fairies this time, to depose him, for the key had come back to their land, and was never likely to be stolen again. They had all put their heads together how to make Cedric part with it of his own free will, according to law, and they knew they had to accomplish their end by their wits, as no other means held good. It was their desire now to elect their ruler by putting the matter to the country to vote, and thus please both parties. The gnomes, who had had time to consider it, were dumbfounded at their stupidity in having thrown the key into Mortal-land, and they regretted it when it was too late.
A fair lady, wearing a tiny crown, stepped forward and curtsied low before her monarch. It was the Crown Princess. Cedric wanted to detain her; but it wasn't etiquette, and she smiled to herself as she swept past with her maids of honour. She was followed by her dark friend, who kissed Cedric's hand. Her face was more beautiful than any he had ever beheld. In obedience to his wish that she should speak to him, the little Queen of Gossamerland smiled and said—
"Sire, I have often heard of mortals, but never saw one before. It is said that some of them never dream of coming to our country, that others often do, but they never come really, you know. Your Majesty is the very first. Will you graciously tell me how it feels?"
Cedric laughed, and coughed nervously, and replied that "it felt very pleasant and comfor'ble."
She turned her head as she withdrew, and whispered anxiously—
"Do not part with the Golden Key, as you value your throne."
The words, and still more the impressive and forceful manner, of the dazzling little Queen puzzled him. He determined, nevertheless, to follow advice so fatefully given, but he couldn't help pondering over it; and his face was graver as he bowed to the lords and ladies and high-born gnomes who had the honour of introduction.
Escorted by the whole of the brilliant company, King Cedric left his palace in order formally "to do some good deed"—which was a part of the ancient ceremonial. He was to open a new institution for fairies who had lost their arts and crafts and livelihoods too. When they arrived at the building it was announced that the key which was to have been presented to him was not forthcoming. Consternation, real or assumed—(Cedric didn't believe in it)—followed on the strange declaration of those who were responsible for the carelessness. Amid profuse apologies, the Lord High Chamberlain begged the King that he would use the Golden Key—which, being a master key, could of course take the place of any other.