“Which one of his stomachs?”
“I don’t know, Your Majesty.”
“Can’t you see which looks the knobbiest?”
Florimel could not but admire the shrewdness of King Stanislaus in disposing of all matters great and small, and he did not feel that he could ever reign and be as wise as he.
The little monarch held his subjects under most admirable control, and in arguments that sometimes rose between them one word from his lips would effectually settle all dispute.
And so they wandered on and on, hiding away from sight ere the first rays of the morning sun could strike them, and sallying forth again when the stars began to shine at night.
Many a harmless prank they played, and helpful deed they did, in which Florimel took hearty part, and he grew to love them more and more, as they did him.
One thing was a source of great surprise to him, yet, after he considered, it was not surprising, which was that all dumb creatures, whether of the fields or air, were the Brownies’ friends, and loved them.
In countless ways they all evinced delight whenever these good-natured little goblings were at hand, for they knew that they would help instead of harm them.
Even the savage animals that had so lately thirsted for Florimel’s blood proved tractable, and neither they nor the Brownies showed the slightest fear of each other. The beasts grovelled and rolled over with pleasure when the Brownies playfully yanked and pulled their tails.