“Truly it would seem so,” responded the Queen, with a laugh; “nevertheless there does not appear to be much hope of its forming a source of supply to the royal larder.”
“Time will show,” said Dominick, coming up at the moment; “and see, here are several kinds of shellfish, which will form a pleasant addition to our fare.”
“Ay, and I saw eggs among the reeds,” said Otto, “some of which—”
“Not pigs’ eggs, surely?” interrupted Dominick.
“They may be so,” retorted Otto; “the fact that English pigs don’t lay eggs, is no argument against South Sea pigs doing so, if they choose. But, as I was about to say, your Majesty, when the Premier interrupted me—some of these eggs I gathered, and would have presented them as an offering from the army, if I had not fallen and crushed them beyond repair.”
In corroboration of what he said, Otto opened his coat pocket and revealed in its depths a mass of yellow substance, and broken shells.
“Horrible!” exclaimed Pauline; “how will you ever get it cleaned?”
“By turning it inside out—thus, most gracious Queen.”
He reversed the pocket as he spoke, allowing the yellow compound to drip on the ground, and thereafter wiped it with grass.
“I wouldn’t have minded this loss so much,” he continued, “if I had not lost that little pig. But I shall know him again when I see him, and you may depend on it that he is destined ere long to be turned into pork chops.”