he lucky raisin in which gleamed the golden
button.

"Rarely caught, young York," cried Prince Henry, clapping his hands in
applause. "I came in right in good time, did I not, to give you luck,
little brother? And now, lad, what is the boon to be?"

And King James, greatly pleased at whatever his dear "Baby Charles" said
or did, echoed his eldest son's question. "Ay lad, 'twas a rare good
dip; so crave your boon. What does my bonny boy desire?"

But the boy hesitated. What was there that a royal prince, indulged as
was he, could wish for or desire? He really could think of nothing, and
crossing quickly to his elder brother, whom, boy-fashion, he adored, he
whispered, "Ud's fish, Hal, what _do_ I want?"

Prince Henry placed his hand upon his brother's shoulder and looked
smilingly into his questioning eyes, and all within the room glanced for
a moment at the two lads standing thus.

And they were well worth looking at. Prince Henry of Wales, tall,
comely, open-faced, and well-built, a noble lad of eighteen who called
to men's minds, so "rare Ben Jonson" says, the memory of the hero of
Agincourt, that other

thunderbolt of war,
Harry the Fifth, to whom in face you are
So like, as Fate would have you so in worth;

Prince Charles, royal Duke of York, Knight of the Garter and of the
Bath, fair in face and form, an active, manly, daring boy of eleven--the
princely brothers made so fair a sight that the King, jealous and
suspicious of Prince Henry's popularity though he was, looked now upon
them both with loving eyes. But how those loving eyes would have grown
dim with tears could this fickle, selfish, yet indulgent father have
foreseen the sad and bitter fates of both his handsome boys.

But, fortunately, such foreknowledge is not for fathers or mothers,
whatever their rank or station, and King James's only thought was one of
pride in the two brave lads now whispering together in secret
confidence. And into this he speedily broke.

"Come, come, Baby Charles," he cried, "stand no more parleying, but out
and over with the boon ye crave as guerdon for your lucky plum. Ud's
fish, lad, out with it; we'd get it for ye though it did rain jeddert
staves here in Whitehall."

"So please your Grace," said the little Prince, bowing low with true
courtier-like grace and suavity, "I will, with your permission, crave my
boon as a Christmas favor at wassail time in to-morrow's revels."