is huge bulk, would
perhaps have succeeded in regaining his feet without attracting the
notice of the Queen but for the impatient movement of the crowd behind
him. Unfortunately, however, he had but half risen when the bustling
multitude moved forward a little against his expansive rear. The result
was disastrous.

Sir Percevall lost his balance, and, feeling himself toppling, threw his
hands out forward with a cry and fell flat on his face.

Elizabeth was at this moment addressing a few gracious words to a
white-haired courtier, who kneeled among those gathered on the right of
her line of progress. Startled by the loud cry of the falling knight,
she turned swiftly and saw at her feet a man of monstrous girth
struggling in vain to raise his unwieldy form. His plumed hat had rolled
to some distance, exposing a bald head with two gray tufts over the
ears. His sword stood on its hilt, with point in air, and his short, fat
legs made quick alternate efforts to bend beneath him--efforts which the
fleshy knees successfully resisted.

The helpless, jerking limbs, the broad, rolling body, and the mixture of
expletives and frantic apologies poured forth by the prostrate knight
turned the Queen's first ready alarm to irrepressible laughter, in which
the bystanders joined to their great relief. Droop alone was grave, for
he could only see in this accident the ruin of his plans.

"Now, by the rood!" cried the Queen, as soon as she could speak
distinctly, "fain would we see your face, good gentleman. Of all our
subjects, not one doth us such low obeisance!" Then, beckoning to those
of her gentleman pensioners who stood nearest:

"Raise us yon mighty subject of ours, whose greatness we might in our
majesty brook but ill did not his humble bearing proclaim a loyal
submission."

Four gentlemen, dropping their gilt axes, hastened to Sir Percevall's
aid, raising him by the arms and shoulders.

"Enough--enough, lads!" cried the knight, when they had got him to his
knees. "Let it not be said that Sir Percevall Hart dared to tempt erect
the dreadful glance of majesty. Here let him lowly bend beneath the eyes
that erstwhile laid him low."

Still holding him, the four gentlemen turned their eyes to the Queen for
orders, and Sir Percevall, clasping his mud-stained hands, addressed
himself directly to Elizabeth, in whose still laughing face he foresaw
success.

"O Majesty of England!" he cried. "Marvel not at this my sudden
fall--for