"Was that the king?" cried Will Jones. "I should never have thought it."
"Wherefore not? Undoubtedly the person in question is much handsomer than his majesty is reported, for the Roundheads always paint him in black colours—but 'tis the king I will maintain."
At this moment Careless entered the buttery, and looked around as if in quest of some one.
"'Tis he!" exclaimed the butler, rising.
All the other servants rose at the same time, but Will Jones went on quietly with his breakfast.
"Get up," said March, in a low tone. "I tell thee 'tis the king."
"I am not supposed to know him," replied Will Jones.
"Don't disturb yourselves, I beg," said Careless. "When thou hast finished breakfast, Will, I want to speak to thee."
"I shall have done directly," rejoined the disguised groom, regardless of the butler's glances.
"Was there ever such an oaf!" cried March, in a low voice. "Has your majesty any commands that I can execute?" he added, stepping forward, and making a profound obeisance to Careless.