“Who is that?” asked the King, eyeing the figure with a comical expression.
“That’s our mace-bearer, your Majesty, Jedidiah Pike.”
Jedidiah Pike, hearing his name announced, supposed that he was summoned, and advanced up the room. Overcome, however, by his feelings, and awe at finding himself in the presence of majesty, down he went on his knees, mace and all, and prostrated himself at the King’s feet, while, looking up with an expression of the most intense reverence, he endeavoured to kiss the hand of majesty.
“Get up, man! get up!” exclaimed the King, scarcely refraining his laughter, “I am not the Grand Seignior nor a three-tailed Basha. Get up, get up, man, and you shall kiss my hand, if it pleases you.” The King could restrain his laughter no longer, and gave way to a hearty cachination, in which his attendants, and even the mayor and corporation of Lynderton, heartily joined, greatly to the confusion of poor Pike, who retreated backwards, very nearly tumbling over his own gown as he endeavoured to escape from the royal presence. During the remainder of the ceremony, the King every two minutes gave way to another hearty laugh, and as he descended the stairs to mount his horse, he looked round, and again inquired for his friend Pike.
The King rode on as before, attended by the few gentlemen who had come with him from Lyndhurst, the populace following at a respectful distance. While he rode on, either side was lined with eager spectators, who gave forth with cheerful voices reiterated welcomes. The king nodded kindly, thanking the people now and then in words as he rode on.
Harry galloped on by a path he knew across the country, and the Colonel was in readiness to receive his royal guest on his arrival.
Meantime, the guests who had been invited to the fête on the lawn arrived from all quarters, while the breakfast-room which overlooked it had been prepared for the royal family. They dined alone—the Colonel and the ladies of his family, aided by Lady Tryon, attending on them. Lady Tryon was delighted at being invited by the Queen to attend on her. She made herself especially agreeable, and took the opportunity of introducing her grandson to their Majesties.
Harry behaved remarkably well under circumstances so novel to him, and Mabel, at all events, thought that she had never seen him looking so handsome.
“He would make a charming page,” Lady Tryon whispered in her ear; “I must try and get their Majesties to take him.”
Meantime the sky had cleared, the sun shone forth brightly. The guests were soon seen in their gayest costumes crossing the lawn to the tents, the band struck up and played the most joyous tunes, and the King came to the window and clapped his hands with delight.