By
and by they gathered courage and began to discuss him aloud. One said:
'He hath a comely face.'
The other added:
'And pretty hair.'
'But is ill clothed enow.'
'And how starved he looketh.'
They came still nearer, sidling shyly around and about him,
examining him minutely from all points, as if he were some strange new
kind of animal; but warily and watchfully the while, as if they half
feared he might be a sort of animal that would bite, upon occasion.
Finally they halted before him, holding each other's hands for
protection, and took a good satisfying stare with their innocent eyes;
then one of them plucked up all her courage and inquired with honest
directness:
'Who art thou, boy?'
'I am the king,' was the grave answer.
The children gave a little start, and their eyes spread themselves
wide open and remained so during a speechless half-minute. Then
curiosity broke the silence:
'The king? What king?'
'The king of England.'
The children looked at each other- then at him- then at each other
again- wonderingly, perplexedly- then one said:
'Didst hear him, Margery?- he saith he is the king. Can that be
true?'
'How can it be else but true, Prissy? Would he say a lie? For look
you, Prissy, an it were not true, it would be a lie. It surely would
be. Now think on't. For all things that be not true, be lies- thou
canst make naught else out of it.'
It was a good, tight argument, without a leak in it anywhere;
and it left Prissy's half-doubts not a leg to stand on.
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