o be
a great occasion.

That republican populace was to get to see the countenance and
coat-tails not only of their tyrant, but also the countenances and
coat-tails of many other tyrants, not to mention female tyrants.

The old doughnut women on the "Dam," which the city rented to them as
a market-place, were threatening to bring suit against the city. They
felt that it was hard to have to pay rent for the fresh air, day after
day, with the prospect of selling a few doughnuts to the youth of
the street, and now be run out because his majesty wanted to exhibit
himself to the people from the balcony of the old City Hall.

Why shouldn't the old women be seen at their accustomed places? Must
the doughnut industry be carried on secretly? Was it for fear of
imitations and unprincely competition? Or was it to keep the old
women from seeing the king?

At any rate, the whole kit of them had to leave. At most, they could
only mix with the crowd incognito, and afterwards might join in
the prearranged "Long live the King!" or somebody else, as the case
might be.

It is really remarkable that princes die. Seemingly the "vivats"
are of no avail.

The crowd was especially large, on account of the many majesties and
highnesses who had gathered about the tyrant.

Among the number was the Prince of Caramania, who had especial claims
upon the sympathy of the people, so all the newspapers said. One of
his ancestors had been a captain in the service of the state and had,
therefore, spilt his blood for the freedom of the Netherlands.

This blood, and perhaps the freedom as well, was newspaper
arabesque. It was certain, however, that the prince wore a green
coat with gold frogs; and upon his head he had a big plume. It was,
therefore, quite proper for the crowd to cry occasionally "Long live
the Prince of Caramania!"

Among the eminent gentlemen was a certain duke, who, by reason of his
virtues, had got himself banished from his country. The man was thrifty
and economical, though without neglecting himself. Nevertheless,
the rabble had dethroned him and sent him across the border with a
bushel of diamonds. Of these diamonds he was now to display a few
dozen in the shape of coat-buttons and the like. The newspapers gave
the crowd their cue accordingly. They were to cry: "Long live the
Duke with his diamonds!"

Princess Erika was the niece of the king, and was to marry the
crown-prince of a great empire, which was indebted to the