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Old King Cole
by
Thus did the wandering fiddler become King Cole, and you may be sure he laughed more merrily than ever when they explained to him his good fortune.
They carried him within the palace and dressed him in purple and fine linen, and placed a crown of gold upon his bald head and a jeweled scepter in his wrinkled hand, and all this amused old King Cole very much. When he had been led to the great throne room and placed upon the throne of gold (where the silken cushions felt very soft and pleasant after his long ride upon the donkey’s sharp back) the courtiers all knelt before him and asked what commands he wished to give, since everyone in the kingdom must now obey his slightest word.
“Oh well,” said the new King, “I think the first thing I would like is my old pipe. You ‘ll find it in the pocket of the ragged coat I took off.”
One of the officers of the court at once ran for the pipe, and when it was brought King Cole filled it with tobacco from his greasy pouch and lighted it, and you can imagine what a queer sight it was to see the fat King sitting upon the rich throne, dressed in silk, and satins and a golden crown, and smoking at the same time an old black pipe!
The councilors looked at each other in dismay, and the ladies of the court sneezed and coughed and seemed greatly shocked, and all this pleased old King Cole so much that he lay back in his throne and roared with laughter. Then the prime minister came forward very gravely, and bowing low he said,
“May it please your Majesty, it is not the custom of Kings to smoke a pipe while seated upon the throne.”
“But it is my custom,” answered Cole.
“It is impolite, and unkingly!” ventured the minister.
“Now, see here, old fellow,” replied his Majesty, “I did n’t ask to be King of this country; it ‘s all your own doing. All my life I have smoked whenever I wished, and if I can’t do as I please here, why, I won’t be king–so there!”
“But you must be the King, your Majesty, whether you want to or not. The law says so.”
“If that ‘s the case,” returned the King, “I can do as I please in other things. So you just run and get me a bowl of punch, there ‘s a good fellow.”
The aged minister did not like to be addressed thus, but the King’s commands must be obeyed; so, although the court was greatly horrified, he brought the bowl of punch, and the King pushed his crown onto the back of his head and drank heartily, and smacked his lips afterwards.
“That ‘s fine!” he said; “but say–what do you people do to amuse yourselves?”
“Whatever your Majesty commands,” answered one of the councilors.
“What! must I amuse you as well as myself? Methinks it is no easy task to be a King if so many things are required of me. But I suppose it is useless to fret, since the law obliges me to reign in this great country against my will. Therefore will I make the best of my misfortune, and propose we have a dance, and forget our cares. Send at once for some fiddlers, and clear the room for our merrymaking, and for once in our lives we shall have a jolly good time!”
So one of the officers of the court went out and soon returned with three fiddlers, and when at the King’s command they struck up a tune, the monarch was delighted, for every fiddler had a very fine fiddle and knew well how to use it.
Now, Old King Cole was a merry old soul, so he soon set all the ladies and gentlemen of the court to dancing, and he himself took off his crown and his ermine robe and laid them upon the throne, while he danced with the prettiest lady present till he was all out of breath.