erry tune which the pipe took no part in, she
circled about the room, making quite a wizard's exit.

The ladies, heart and soul in the fun, fell into line and followed, as
if spell-bound by the magic of the Piper.

Charles, James, Rochester and the gallants, who remained, each of whom
had been in turn deserted by his fair lady, unmasked and looked at one
another in wonderment. Of one accord, they burst into a peal of
laughter.

"Sublime audacity," exclaimed Charles. "Who is this curled darling--this
ball-room Adonis? Ods-pitikins, we are in the sear and yellow leaf."

"Truly, Sire," said James, dryly, "I myself prefer a gathering of men
only."

"Brother James," forthwith importuned the King, waggishly, "will you
favour me with your lily-white hand for the next dance? I am driven to
extremity."

"Pardon, Sire," replied James, quite humorously for him, "I am engaged
to a handsomer man."

"Odsfish," laughed Charles, "King Charles of England a wall-flower.
Come, Rochester, my epitaph."

The King threw himself into a chair, in an attitude of hopeless
resignation, quite delicious.

Rochester perked up with the conceit and humour of the situation. With
the utmost dignity, and with the quizzical, pinched brow of the
labouring muse, halting at each line, he said:

_"Here lies our sovereign lord, the King,
Whose word no man relies on;
Who never said a foolish thing,
And never did a wise one!"_

The post-mortem verse was sufficiently subtle and clever to revive the
King's drooping spirits; and he joined heartily in the applause.

"The matter," he said, approvingly, "is easily accounted for--my
discourse is my own, my actions are my Ministry's."

There was a _frou-frou_ of petticoats. The hostess entered gaily.

"The King! The courtiers! Unmasked!" she exclaimed, in coy reproof. "Fy,
fy, your Majesty! For shame! Gallants! Are you children that I must pair
you off?"

"We are seeking consolation," suggested Charles, dryly; "for modest
souls have small chance to-night, Louise."

He nodded significantly in the direction of the great ball-room, where
the chatter of women's voices betokened the unrivalled popularity of
Nell.

"When did you turn modest, Sire?" slyly inquired Portsmouth, with a look
of love.

"When I was out-stripped in audacity by yon Hibernian youth," replied
the King, seriously. "Who is this peacock you are introducing?"

A peal of laughter from without punctuated the King'