The evening meal was a matter of some ceremony and observance of old customs. The public was admitted in moderate numbers on payment of a small fee (which went to the poor) and it was quite the thing for people who wanted to give country friends a treat to take them to the palace in order to see from behind a railed-off space the royal party feeding. Those who came on this particular evening had no reason to complain that they had not had their money’s worth.
The jovial character of the King made him sometimes impatient of ceremony, and once the trumpets had sounded to announce that he had removed his outer robe and taken his seat, he would adopt a free and easy manner calculated to put nervous guests at their ease. I do not mean that Joe and Sylvia were nervous. They had been guests of honour at the table of King Merse II and knew something of the ways of courts—though this of course was on a much more magnificent scale—and, in addition, they were upheld by the consciousness that they were fitly attired. Those who know—as I confess I do—the great gain in ease and self-respect due to a new suit of clothes will readily understand this.
While the meal proceeded the King expressed sympathy with them for their mislaying of Gorbo and comforted them by saying that he would undoubtedly turn up safe and sound. He said he would have inquiries made at once.
“It is indeed a gratification,” he said, “to hear that the Snergs are nice and harmless and not at all fierce. I must try and arrange some way of meeting their king, who I have no doubt is a very worthy man in his way. It would be to clear up the misunderstandings of ages. And I should especially like to see your faithful friend Gorbo. I trust I shall shortly. In the meantime,” he went on with hospitable smiles, “have another of these, Sylvia” (handing her a plate of confections rather like muffins with fruit inside). “Little girls should build up their systems with plenty of food, and these are full of vitamines.”
“Thank you, sire,” said Sylvia, taking one.
“But these are cold,” went on the King as he bit into another. “Let me give you a hot one.” Then, for as I have said he despised ceremony in small things, he rose and reached for a huge silver dish (with a hot water arrangement beneath it) where the muffins were heaped.
I ask you to note that, the dish being at some distance from him, he leant forward until he was almost prone on the table, the muffin he had bitten to test its temperature being still between his teeth.