the King, and one must agree with him. Many years
after, another poet called Shelley plagiarised the idea, but handled
it in a more artificial, and, to my way of thinking, decidedly
inferior manner.

"Was it a real bird?" said the King.

"An old favourite."

"Was it pleased about it?"

"Alas, your Majesty, it died without hearing it."

"Poor bird!" said his Majesty; "I think it would have liked it."

Meanwhile Hyacinth, innocent of the nearness of a mother, remained on
the castle walls and tried to get on with her breakfast. But she made
little progress with it. After all, it _is_ annoying continually to
look up from your bacon, or whatever it is, and see a foreign monarch
passing overhead. Eighteen more times the King of Barodia took
Hyacinth in his stride. At the end of the performance, feeling rather
giddy, she went down to her father.

She found him alone in the library, a foolish smile upon his face, but
no sign of a letter to Barodia in front of him.

"Have you sent the Note yet?" she asked.

"Note? Note?" he said, bewildered, "what--oh, you mean the Stiff Note
to the King of Barodia? I'm just planning it, my love. The exact
shade of stiffness, combined with courtesy, is a little difficult to
hit."

"I shouldn't be too courteous," said Hyacinth; "he came over eighteen
more times after you'd gone."

"Eighteen, eighteen, eight--my dear, it's outrageous."

"I've never had such a crowded breakfast before."

"It's positively insulting, Hyacinth. This is no occasion for Notes.
We will talk to him in a language that he will understand."

And he went out to speak to the Captain of his Archers.

CHAPTER II

THE CHANCELLOR OF BARODIA HAS A LONG WALK HOME

Once more it was early morning on the castle walls.

The King sat at his breakfast table, a company of archers drawn up in
front of him.

"Now you all understand," he said. "When the King of Baro--when a
certain--well, when I say 'when,' I want you all to fire your arrows
into the air. You are to take no aim; you are just to shoot your
arrows upwards, and--er--I want to see who gets highest. Should
anything--er--should anything brush up against them on their way--not
of course that it's likely--well, in that case--er--in that case
something will--er--brush up against them. After all, what _should?_"

"Quite so, Sire," said the Captain, "or rather, not at all."

"Very well. To your places."

Each archer fitted an arrow to his bo