“Who art thou, boy?”
“I am the King,” was the grave answer.
The children gave a little start, and their eyes spread themselves wide open and remained so during a speechless half minute. Then curiosity broke the silence—
“The King? What King?”
“The King of England.”
The children looked at each other—then at him—then at each other again—wonderingly, perplexedly; then one said—
“Didst hear him, Margery?—he said he is the King. Can that be true?”
“How can it be else but true, Prissy? Would he say a lie? For look you, Prissy, an’ it were not true, it would be a lie. It surely would be. Now think on’t. For all things that be not true, be lies—thou canst make nought else out of it.”