which had come to naught full seven years before, did the
timid king feel secure on his throne; the translation of the Bible,
on which so many learned men had been for years engaged, had just been
issued from the press of Master Robert Baker; and, lastly, much profit
was coming into the royal treasury from the new lands in the Indies and
across the sea.

So it was to be a Merry Christmas in the palace at Whitehall. Great were
the preparations for its celebration, and the Lord Henry, the handsome,
wise and popular young Prince of Wales, whom men hoped some day to hail
as King Henry of England, was to take part in a jolly Christmas mask,
in which, too, even the little Prince Charles was to perform for the
edification of the court when the mask should be shown in the new and
gorgeous banqueting hall of the palace.

And to-night it was Christmas Eve. The Little Prince Charles and the
Princess Elizabeth could scarcely wait for the morrow, so impatient were
they to see all the grand devisings that were in store for them. So
good Master Sandy, under-tutor to the Prince, proposed to wise Archie
Armstrong, the King's jester, that they play at snapdragon for the
children in the royal nursery.

The Prince and Princess clamoured for the promised game at once, and
soon the flicker from the flaming bow lighted up the darkened nursery
as, around the witchlike caldron, they watched their opportunity to
snatch the lucky raisin. The room rang so loudly with fun and laughter
that even the King himself, big of head and rickety of legs, shambled in
good-humouredly to join in the sport that was giving so much pleasure
to the royal boy he so dearly loved, and whom he always called "Baby
Charles."

But what was snapdragon, you ask? A simple enough game, but dear for
many and many a year to English children. A broad and shallow bowl
or dish half-filled with blazing brandy, at the bottom of which lay
numerous toothsome raisins--a rare tidbit in those days--and one of
these, pierced with a gold button, was known as the "lucky raisin."
Then, as the flaming brandy flickered and darted from the yawning bowl,
even as did the flaming poison tongues of the cruel dragon that St.
George of England conquered so valiantly, each one of the revellers
sought to snatch a raisin from the burning bowl without singe or scar.
And he who drew out the lucky raisin was winner and champion, and could
claim a boon or reward for his superior skill. Rather a dangerou