anopy, at the head of
a long table. Whenever any of the company addressed him, it was with the
deepest reverence. If the attendants offered him wine, or the various
delicacies of the festival, it was upon their bended knees. You would have
thought, by these tokens of worship, that the monarch was a supernatural
being; only he seemed to have quite as much need of those vulgar matters,
food and drink, as any other person at the table. But fate had ordained
that good King James should not finish his dinner in peace.

All of a sudden, there arose a terrible uproar in the room where the
children were at play. Angry shouts and shrill cries of alarm were mixed
up together; while the voices of elder persons were likewise heard, trying
to restore order among the children. The king, and everybody else at
table, looked aghast; for perhaps the tumult made them think that a
general rebellion had broken out.

"Mercy on us!" muttered Sir Oliver; "that graceless nephew of mine is in
some mischief or other. The naughty little whelp!"

Getting up from table, he ran to see what was the matter, followed by many
of the guests, and the king among them. They all crowded to the door of
the play-room.

On looking in, they beheld the little Prince Charles, with his rich dress
all torn, and covered with the dust of the floor. His royal blood was
streaming from his nose in great abundance. He gazed at Noll with a
mixture of rage and affright, and at the same time a puzzled expression,
as if he could not understand how any mortal boy should dare to give him a
beating. As for Noll, there stood his sturdy little figure, bold as a
lion, looking as if he were ready to fight not only the prince, but the
king and kingdom too.

"You little villain!" cried his uncle. "What have you been about? Down on
your knees, this instant, and ask the prince's pardon. How dare you lay
your hands on the king's Majesty's royal son?"

"He struck me first," grumbled the valiant little Noll; "and I've only
given him his due."

Sir Oliver and the guests lifted up their hands in astonishment and
horror. No punishment seemed severe enough for this wicked little varlet,
who had dared to resent a blow from the king's own son. Some of the
courtiers were of opinion that Noll should be sent prisoner to the Tower
of London, and brought to trial for high treason. Others, in their great
zeal for the king's service, were about to lay hands on the boy, and
chastise him in the ro