hrough the crowd, and saluting the young King with his
axe. He was an immensely strong man, seven feet high, with short red
hair standing up over his head, and a butcher's apron tied on in front
of him.

'Headsman,' said the King, 'if anyone stirs or says a word except by
my leave, off with his head! Do you understand?'

For answer the Headsman tossed his terrible axe high up in the air,
caught it lightly as it came down, and then, swinging it round his
head, he cut off the tall feather that was fastened in the cap of the
Chancellor of the Jingle. An inch more would have buried the blade in
his skull.

'Very good,' said King Yellow-cap; 'I see you know your business. Now,
then, bring me hither that cart. Let the woman come down.'

Amidst a total silence, during which the Headsman was seen to feel the
edge of his axe with his thumb--keeping his right eye upon King
Yellow-cap the while, and the left upon the Home Doggerel--the veiled
woman got down from the cart and came forward to the donkey which
served the King as a throne. Here she dropped a curtsey.

King Yellow-cap gazed steadfastly upon her for several moments. The
black veil still hung before her face, but round her neck was visible
a bit of pink ribbon.

'Who are you?' he asked at last.

'I am a village maiden, Sire,' she answered in a voice so sweet and
clear that it was heard all over the theatre.

'Of what crime are you accused?'

'Of high treason, Sire.'

'In what way did you commit it?'

At this question the Home Doggerel and the other members of the
Cabinet made a movement as if they wished to step behind the scenes;
but King Yellow-cap noticed it, and in an awful voice he cried out--

'Headsman!'

'Ready, your Majesty,' said that officer, poising his axe to strike.

'One step more,' said the King, turning to the six courtiers, 'and
your heads fly into the pit. Keep your axe poised,' he added to the
Headsman.

'Right you are, young man!' said the person in the pit whom the police
had tried to arrest for hissing. 'Right you are, Master Yellow-cap;
you're just about the sort of king I goes in for, and so I tells you.'

'And now go on with your story,' said the King to the veiled woman.

'May it please your Majesty,' she replied, 'the way it happened was
this. As I was taking the butter out of my churn yesterday afternoon
there came into my dairy-room an ugly little long-armed man, with a
hook nose and a great pair of moustachios. I asked