But before Mr. Punch could finish his explanatory sketch, a tremendous uproar was heard in the court-yard of the Palace. There was a sound as of a huge mob shouting in unison, shots were heard, and cries of "Liberty for Ever:" vent the air. The royal guests were in a state of terrible agitation. An orderly covered with mud forced his way through the crowd, up the stairs, and stood before the King.
"Your Majesty," he panted, "a revolution has broken out. The populace has erected barricades, the deposition of your House has been declared, and a Republic proclaimed. The mob is now marching to the Palace."
The King drew himself up to his full height. Where are my Golf-clubs? he asked in a calm voice.
"Your Majesty, they have been seized and secreted."
"Then all is lost. It only remains for me to depart," was the King's heartbroken reply. "I will, in person, announce my resignation." "I resign!" shouted the King, appearing on a balcony overlooking the court-yard. Deafening cheers greeted this announcement. "Bless you, my children!" sobbed the King—"I am off to the station. Take care of my poodle, and my pet parrot."
At this the mob unanimously burst into tears. They insisted on accompanying the deposed monarch to the station, the popular band playing "The Dead March in Saul." But the King remained calm, and marched on without swerving. At the station he took his seat silently in the Royal Balloon, a whistle was heard, and the car floated off into space.
"I cannot say I think much of all that," said Mr. Punch. "In our part of the Universe we generally manage to get a little more bloodshed out of it."