But we went over to the side of the yard,
and--without being noticed by any of the people, who seemed too much
interested to turn around--we soon found out what the matter was.

Priscilla had usurped the throne!

The rocking-chair had been brought out and placed again in front of the
window, and there sat Priscilla, leaning back at her ease, with the
crown on her head, a big fan--made of calf-skin--in her hand, and a
general air of superiority pervading her whole being. Behind her, with
her hand on the back of the chair, stood Poqua-dilla, wearing her new
turban, but without the red shawl. She looked as if something had
happened.

In front of the chair was the Lord High Chancellor. He had evidently
gone over to the usurper. His red ribbon, very dusty and draggled, still
hung from his shirt-collar. The four courtiers sat together on a bench,
near the house, with their coats still buttoned up as high as
circumstances would allow. They seemed sad and disappointed, and
probably had been deprived of their rank. The _Hof-rath_ stood in the
front of the crowd. He did not appear happy; indeed, he seemed a good
deal ruffled, both in mind and clothes. Perhaps he had defended his
queen, and had been roughly handled.

Priscilla was talking, and fanning herself, gracefully and lazily, with
her calf-skin fan. I think she had been telling the people what she
intended to do, and what she intended them to do; but, almost
immediately after our arrival, she was interrupted by the _Hof-rath_,
who said something that we did not hear, but which put Priscilla into a
wild passion.

She sprang to her feet and stood up in the chair, while poor Poqua-dilla
held it firmly by the back so that it should not shake. I supposed from
this that Priscilla had been standing up before, and that our old friend
had been appointed to the office of chair-back-holder to the usurper.

Priscilla waved her fan high in air, and then, with her right hand, she
took off the crown, held it up for a minute, and replaced it on her
head.

"Afrikins, behole yer queen!" said she, at the top of her voice, and
leaning back so far that the rightful sovereign had a good deal of
trouble to keep the chair from going over.

"Dat's me!" she cried. "Look straight at me, an' ye see yer queen. An'
how you dar', you misribble Hop-grog, to say I no queen! You 'serve to
be killed. Take hole o' him, some uv you fellers! Grab dat Hop-grog!"

At this, two or three men seized the