"Why not," replied the Emperor. "Suppose I wanted my own way about something at the same time that you wanted your own way about it, the only way it could be managed without a fight, would be for you to be in the lower classes where you couldn't have your own way unless it suited me. See?"
"Yes," said Zep, sulkily, "I see, but I don't think it's fair. Why not put yourself in the lower classes and let me stay in the upper class?"
"Impossible," said the Emperor, "for if any one ever belonged to the upper classes an Emperor does."
"So does a prince," said Zep.
"Not necessarily," replied the monarch. "I had a dog named Prince once, but you never heard of a dog named Emperor, did you?"
And as Zep could think of nothing to say to that, the Emperor issued his decree, and Zep and all the rest of the upper classes were put in the lower classes, and the monarch enjoyed himself more than ever.
But if the Emperor enjoyed himself, Zep and the rest of the upper classes did not. For if they wanted to do something the Emperor always wanted them to do something different. And if he did not want that, he wanted them to do something nobody could do. And as Zep lived in the palace he had it worse than anybody else.
He was told to hold his breath for an hour; to stand on his ear for half an hour, and not wink for fifteen minutes. And when he did not do what he was told because he could not, the Emperor stuck pins in him and dared him to yell.
"See here," said Zep to the monarch, "I used to like you but I don't a bit any more. I'm going back home right off."
"Very well," said the Emperor, "go ahead. I'm tired of you anyway. The idea of a strong, healthy boy not being able to stand on his ear, and making such a fuss, too, because a few pins are stuck in him. Go on, go back home."