Then he swung himself about. "The idea," he said, glaring at the Prince and the Poppykok, "of any one trying to keep me from falling downstairs. Huh! Can't I fall down my own stairs? Can't I? Tell me!"
"Certainly you can, your majesty," responded the Poppykok. "You can fall up 'em, too, if you want."
"I should think so," retorted the Emperor, "and yet the Queen tells me to look out and not fall down 'em, because it worries her. Well, let her worry. I want her to worry."
But if the Queen was worried she did not act that way, for as she came tripping down she was laughing so heartily that she nearly fell herself, and finally had to sit on the bottom step to get her breath.
"What—what—" spluttered the Emperor, "what do you mean by not worrying? You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Look at my nose, to say nothing of the bump on my shins. My, oh, my, isn't anybody worried about me?"
"I am, your majesty," put in Zep, "and I think the Queen ought to be, too."
"She ought not," snapped the monarch, scrambling to his feet. "If I wanted her to be glad she would be worried, but as I want her to be worried, she is not. You must be a stranger here."
"He is," said the Poppykok. "He just arrived. I only caught him a little while ago."
Then he told the Emperor who Zep was. "This boy," he said, "is a Prince, and has his own way more than anybody else in his father's kingdom. In fact, he is one of the most delightfully stubborn young persons I have ever met, and never will do what any one wants him to if he can possibly help it."
"My," said the Emperor, grasping Zep's hand and shaking it warmly, "if that isn't the finest record I ever heard of. I couldn't be more pig-headed myself. How did you get so? Did you learn it at school or just teach yourself?"