we were
tired of them, then cats' cradles, then honey-pots, and then touch wood.
And what could have been more refreshing than those cups of tea! And
what more invigorating than the Pontefract cakes, the slabs of cocoanut
ice, and sheets of almond hard-bake that we crunched between the games!
And the songs and choruses with which we shook the crazy old hen-house
to its rotting foundations! My word! How we trolled them out!

'When our joy was at its height, and we were carolling the inimitable
chorus of that more than glorious old song of the country-side, "Waiting
for the Guinea Fowl," we were suddenly reminded of the approach of day
by the loud crowing of the old cock over our heads, and peeping at once
out of the door we perceived that already the dawn had advanced and
lightened the eastern sky.

[Illustration: WHAT A TIME WE HAD]

'Without a moment's hesitation, the guttering candles were
extinguished, and I was hurried back to the palace. But only just in
time, for as I mounted the steps of my throne I could hear the lazy
steps of the boot-boy as he unwillingly crawled downstairs to his work.

'In the course of the day the Egg Counter to the Royal Household was
dragged grovelling before me, complaining that the foxes had stolen one
of the chickens under his care. I ordered the treasurer to disburse 9d.
for a trap and dismissed the grinning churl, who little guessed the
breed of foxes which had made away with his bird.

'Night after night the four of us, unsuspected of any, now sought the
hen-house, and forgot the harassing troubles of state in the pure joys
of friendship. After killing, roasting, and supping off one of the birds
as on our first meeting, we abandoned ourselves to the heartiest
revelry, only to be awakened to the cold everyday world by the crowing
of the old bantam.

'During the daytime my friends resumed their deferential and almost
servile demeanour, and nothing remained to remind me of the revels of
the night before but the troubles of the Egg Counter, who now came to me
every day with a fresh complaint that yet another of his birds had
disappeared.

'And now begins the narration of the most terrible of all my trials. One
night--how well can I remember it, it was on the eve of that very day
when the mighty King of the Persians and all his court were coming to
spend the week-end with us, in order to celebrate my sixty-fifth
birthday--we met as usual in the hen-house, and discovered to our di