turning sadly away, when he saw a little card stuck away in the
right-hand top corner of the baize field.

'Hard-working King wanted; no objection to one who has not been out
before.'

'I can but try,' said Billy, and he opened the door of the registry
office and walked in.

Inside there were several desks. At the first desk a lion with a pen
behind its ear was dictating to a unicorn, who was writing in a series
of Blue-books with his horn. Billy noticed that the horn had been
sharpened to a nice point, like a lead pencil when the drawing-master
does it for you as a favour.

'I think you want a King?' said Billy timidly.

'No, we don't,' said the lion, and it turned on him so quickly that
Billy was sorry he had spoken. 'The situation is filled, young man, and
we're thoroughly suited.'

Billy was turning away, much dispirited, when the unicorn said: 'Try
some of the others.'

So he went on to the next desk, where a frog sat sadly. But it only
wanted Presidents; and at the next desk an eagle told him that only
Emperors were wanted, and those very seldom. It was not till he got to
the very end of the long room that Billy found a desk where a fat pig in
spectacles sat reading a cookery-book.

'Do you want a King?' said Billy. 'I've not been out before.'

'Then you're the King for us,' said the pig, shutting the cookery-book
with a bang. 'Hard-working, I suppose, as the notice says?'

'I think I should be,' said Billy, adding, honestly, 'especially if I
liked the work.'

The pig gave him a square of silver parchment and said, 'That's the
address.'

On the parchment was written:

'Kingdom of Plurimiregia. Billy King, Respectable Monarch. Not been out
before.'

'You'd better go by post,' said the pig. 'The five o'clock post will
do.'

'But why--but how--where is it?' asked Billy.

'I don't know where it is,' said the pig, 'but the Post-Office knows
everything. As to how--why, you just tie a label round your neck and
post yourself in the nearest letter-box. As to why, that's a silly
question, really, your Majesty. Don't you know the Post-Office always
takes charge of the Royal males?'

Billy was just putting the address carefully away in what would have
been his watch-pocket if he had had any relation in the world except a
great-uncle, when the swing door opened gently and a little girl came
in. She looked at the lion and unicorn and the other busy beasts behind
their desks, and she did not seem to like