“‘Wisha, was it the way I was snoring again?’ ses the King.
“‘Why, I thought the last day had come, with the noise you were making with that trumpet of a nose of yours,’ ses Matty.
“‘That’s too bad,’ ses the King. ‘I’ll keep awake for the remainder of the night lest I might disturb you again.’ And then they started talking about old times and the price of potatoes, ladies’ hats, and fancy petticoats. But suddenly the King changed the subject, and ses: ‘Tell me,’ ses he, ‘are the schoolmasters as ignorant, as conceited, and as pompous as ever?’
“‘’Tis only worse they are getting,’ ses Matty, ‘notwithstanding the cheapness of literature and free education.’
“‘I am sorry to hear that,’ ses the King. And so they discussed everything under the sun from bird-catching to cock-fighting until morning came. And when they were called for breakfast, they rushed to the dining-room, and found the Queen and all the children seated around the table waiting for their bacon and eggs to be fried. The King, of course, was duly impressed, and as he sat down, and placed the newspaper in front of the sugar bowl to get a better view of it, he up and ses to the Queen: ‘Good morning, ma’am,’ ses he. ‘What’s the good word?’
“‘The Lord High Chancellor and all his staff could not decide whether New York or Boston would be the best place for our worthy and distinguished guest to commit suicide, so they all hanged themselves during the night to save you the trouble of having it done to-day.’
“‘Well,’ ses the King to Matty, ‘isn’t it a great thing to have men in your employment who can show so much respect for yourself and such consideration for your feelings?’
“‘’Tis always a great pleasure, to get others to do what you wouldn’t do yourself,’ ses Matty.
“Then the King turned to the Queen and ses: ‘They were good faithful servants, but like all of their kind they thought too little about themselves, and too much about those they tried to serve. The man who doesn’t consider himself first in all things deserves to be considered last by everybody. Howsomever, they deserved to be buried anyway, so give orders to have them all cut down and sent home to their own people. They have the best right to them, now that they are no more use to any one else. But keep their old clothes and send them to the Salvation Army. ’Tis better, indeed, that the poor should have their overcoats and nightshirts than the moths to eat them.’
“‘Of course,’ ses Matty, ‘’tis an ill wind that blows nobody good, but nevertheless, I am as badly off as ever, without one to advise me or to tell me what to do.’