"Not so fast, me young friend," said the King; "you must come with us."
"Truly, your Majesty, I haven't the time," said Billy.
"I didn't ask you for the time," said the King, "so whether you have it or haven't it you'll have to take it—forward!"
And Billy found himself in the grasp of Private Swash Buckler, and being led in the direction of the City.
They hadn't far to go, and in spite of their naturally slow progress with such sorry steeds, Billy soon found himself within the gates.
And oh! what a place. Dirty, miry streets, pigs every place, tumbledown, leaky roofed houses and ragged people. And the palace—well, Billy would never in the world have known it for a palace if the King hadn't told him it was. It was simply a larger, dirtier, more tumbledown house than any of the others, with more and fatter pigs in the front yard.
"Bring in the prisoner, Gyard," said the King, dismounting and picking his way up the tottering steps.
"Prisoner," cried Billy, "what have I done to be made a prisoner?"
"I don't know yet," said the King, "but I will find something. We haven't had a prisoner for years, and now that I've got one I'm not going to let him go again for such a simple reason as his having done nothing wrong—am I right, ladies and gentlemen?"