This apparently was his turn to stare and stare he did in quite an unroyal manner.
Another moment had elapsed by the time he regained his composure sufficiently to find his tongue.
“Why—why hello there!” he said. “Who are you and where did you come from?”
“Who—who are you?” It was Doris who asked this without answering his question.
“Can’t you see?” His face expanded into a broad grin. “I am the Marine King of Manowa. And these,” he added with a low bow, “are my subjects—some of ’em. Three thousand, in all, and pretty loyal, too.”
“This,” Doris told herself, rubbing a hand across her eyes, as if to dispel a vision, “is not reality. It is a chapter from Alice in Wonderland.”
But it was not. The Marine King of Manowa proved to be very real indeed. The repast he spread before his three young guests a half hour later dispelled the last doubt. One doesn’t get real oatmeal with rich cream, poached eggs and hot cakes with honey from the pages of a fairy book.
“Yes, he is real,” Doris whispered to Johnny. “But how strange.”
“I suppose you think it’s awfully queer,” said the Corporal King, polishing his battered crown thoughtfully, “that I should be king over here. Well, it’s a strange sort of a yarn.” He settled back in his rustic seat. “You see, this island is part of Haiti, and our country, the grand old United States of America, is engaged at present in an endeavor to bring order out of chaos.”
“Yes,” said Doris eagerly. “My uncle is a horticultural expert. He’s trying to help them to raise fruits and nuts in a better way.”