“And the ceremonies are to begin immejetly after your royal breakfast.”
“But, Patrick—Sir Patrick, I mean,—can we have the chestnuts you picked?”
“Sure thirty men have been gatherin’ chestnuts for Your Majesty since yesterday mornin’—and the chief cook is roastin’ ’em on the kitchen stove.”
“Oh—oh—and when can we have the feast?”
“Whin every one’s wished for whatever they wants the most in the world,” said old Patrick, with never a smile, “and not a minute before!”
“What do you mean?”
“Just that, Your Majesty; just that!” he said solemnly as he backed out of the room.
“Oh, wait, Sir Patrick!” the little boy cried.
“I can’t wait, Your Majesty, for there’s much to be done, includin’ shovelin’ the snow off the front path.” And with a wave of his hand he was gone.
The little boy bombarded Mrs. Darling with questions when she appeared with his breakfast.