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PAGE 19

Let’s Play King
by [?]

“What do you play with at home?” asked Terry.

“Why, we live in the country most of the year, and I ride and swim and play tennis and—and—that’s about all. You see, I have ever such a stern tutor, and he keeps me at work so much. But—oh, I have a bicycle, too!”

Ginger and Terry exchanged glances of pity for their unfortunate new friend, and Terry said comfortingly, “But still, it must be slick to ride horseback on these English roads—not get jounced all to pieces like I do when I ride on the ranch. ”

“You ride on a ranch? I thoughtyou were American!”

“Yes. I’m in the movies. ”

The stranger startled them with his scream: “Now I know! I knew you looked familiar! You’re Terry Tait! I’ve seen you in the pictures. I loved ’em! Oh, I am so glad to meet you!”

The boys shook hands, while Ginger beamed and Josephus wagged with appreciation, and Terry said generously, “But you Englishers don’t care for my stuff like they do at home. I guess I ain’t so much as—”

“But honestly, Terry—if I may call you that?”

“Sure, kid. ”

“But I’m not English—at least only an eighth English. I’m Slovarian. ”

“With that Slovarian bunch with King Maximilian downstairs?”

“Yes. I’m Maximilian. ”

“Oh, go-WAN! You don’t look like a king! You look like a regular kid!”

“Blimey!” groaned Ginger, “I believe ‘e is the king, Terry! I seen ‘is pictures!”

“Gee,” wailed Terry, “and I thought kings always wore tights and carried swords!”

“I’m frightfully sorry, Terry. Honestly, I hate being a king! It’s just beastly! I have to learn six languages, and all about taxation and diplomacy and history and all those things—and I just want to play and be let alone! And they’re always trying to assassinate me!”

“Jiminy! Honest?” breathed Terry.

“Yes; I’ve been shot at three times this year, and really, I don’t like it a bit. ”

“Say, gee, Your Majesty has got to excuse me if I got fresh with you. ”

“Oh, please, won’t you call me ‘Max’?”

“Thunder! You can’t call a king ‘Max. ’ You call him ‘Your Majesty,’ or ‘Sire. ’”

“No, you don’t! Not in private life. ”

“Well, gosh, I ought to know! I’ve read A Gentleman of France and a lot like that. ”

“Well, I ought to know. I’m a king!”

“But you haven’t been a king long!”

“That’s so. But anyway—oh, please call me ‘Max. ’ Honestly, Terry, I’m so frightfully pleased to have met you. I’ve always been eager to know you ever since I saw you as the cabin boy in ‘The Burning Deck. ’ I say! That was simply ripping where you had that idea about dropping one end of the hose in the ocean and putting out the fire whence all but you had fled. Jove, you must have led the most perilous life!”

“Oh. That! That scene with the hose was taken in the studio. The fire wasn’t nothing but some oily waste in pails. No. I never did anything dangerous. Dog-gone it! My mother won’t let me!”

“Oh, Terry! Look! When we grow up, and I get to be a realking, and my mother and Sebenco (he’s the prime minister) and Professor Michelowsky (he’s my tutor)—when I’m of age and they can’t govern me any longer, will you be my Commander in Chief?”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind, Max. ” In a sudden consideration of his own troubles, it is to be feared that Terry forgot he was addressing a king. “Anyway, I’d certainly like to get out of the movies. You talk about your troubles—say, you don’t know how turble it is to be a movie star. Awful!

“I have to give interviews, and every time I go out of the house somebody is there horning in, trying to photograph me, and I have to wear trick clothes—oh, horrible clothes!—and old ladies come and stroke my hair, and I have to listen while they tell me what a dandy actor I am—and honest, Max, I’m fierce, and now I’ve got to meet the king of—Oh, golly, I forgot! You arethe king!”

“Yes, hang it!”

“It’s fierce!”

“It is, by Jove!” mourned Maximilian.

“I wish we could run away and find some nice farmhouse and just be kids there, and feed the pigs!”

“Rather! Wouldn’t I like to!”