The Queen of Gossamerland, tired of wasting time, put out her hand so prettily, and pursed up her lips so sweetly and daintily, that he did give her the Golden Key, and she gave a kiss as a receipt. Then she said that the Office of Works would send for the crown, and flitted away.
Cedric prepared to remove his crown, with a sigh to think he had no longer any right to it, but first he ran to the stream that slowly floated by, and took a good look at himself. He smiled with pride. "I must say," he remarked confidentially to himself, "I really do look every inch a king! But, after all, I couldn't go to school with this on—the fellows would be sure to notice it." He started at the bare idea, and laid down the crown with a feeling of "good riddance" as profound and grateful as ever King James II. could have experienced. He felt no other pang than that of dignity too quickly swept away.
He placed it on the grass, confident that the Gossamer Queen would send for it at once, and he began to think of his own return. "Now to find that door!" he exclaimed, and looked about him to ask the way. The golden lake, the glittering palace, the sentry of mountains—all were there; but no living being was in sight.
"Queer place, I call it," said Cedric to himself. "No cake shops, only honey, and no policemen to tell the way." He wandered on in the hope of coming sooner or later, somehow and somewhere, to the door.
After a time he met the funny little old man who had accosted him on his arrival. He was gazing hard at the boy, looking right through him as though he were not there.
"Will you kindly show me the door?" said Cedric eagerly.
"Turn you out, do you mean?" asked ex-King the First.
"I want to turn myself out, if I can," replied Cedric.
"Already? Good morning, young gentleman, ex-King the Second. There's a pair of us."
"Please show me the door."