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MOONFOLK.
And with these words the King of Hearts, who
seemed to be the very most hot-tempered king imaginable,
began raving about the cottage, slashing at everything
with the sword he held in one hand, or the darts
which filled the other.
"Thieves! fire! murder!" screamed Mrs. Horner.
" There are your nasty tarts upon the table ! Take them
and be gone A fine king you ! are, to be sure and if
;
"
John Horner ever goes back to be your knave,
I'll
" No, you won't, wife ! Don't say it, for I'm going
back this very minute, if his majesty will let me," whimpered
the Knave of Hearts, creeping out from behind his
wife's petticoats, and falling upon his knees at the feet
of the king, who was counting the tarts, and looking at
one that seemed to have been broken.
" Oh, your majesty, if you would only be so kind as
to forgive me, and let my wages go on, I'll be so good,"
mumbled the knave, while his wife cried angrily
:
" John Horner, I'm ashamed of you ! wages, in-
"
deed !
" Hold your tongue, wife !
Oh, your majesty,
couldn't you find it in your royal heart to forgive me ? "
"Eh, what's that? Forgive you, did you say ? Well,
but how came you to touch the tarts, made by the queen
herself, with her own royal hands and all ! And you
"
stole them !
"Please your majesty, it was my wife made me
do it."