“Well,” he said thoughtfully, as be finished the jam, “there is no denying it. This work is a wonderful thing. I have never enjoyed my tea so much in all my life. Thank you very much.”
“Not at all,” said the polite cottager. I beg you will not mention it.” He opened the door, and the King went out again upon his travels.
He wandered some miles, until night began to come on, and he began to think about finding somewhere to sleep. At last he came to a castle, and rang the visitors’ bell.
“Could you please tell me,” he said, as the servant opened the door, “if I might sleep here for the night? I have come a long way, and I am tired.”
The servant said he would make inquiries within. He went through a door at the side of the hall, and soon came back with his master’s compliments, and he could certainly sleep there if he was willing to do some work in return.
“It certainly is a most wonderful thing, this work,” thought the King. “When I remember how little of it there was in my palace, and see what a great deal there is everywhere else, it surprises me. I will certainly do the work he wants me to,” he added aloud.
“That’s right,” said the footman. “Come to think of it, there’s nothing like work.”
And fixing his eyes dreamily on the ceiling, he sang the following verse:
“Oh, work it is a gentle thing, Beloved from pole to pole. It suits the fancy of a king —
“Ah,” interrupted his Majesty, “you’re right there.”
“And,” went on the footman,
“It satisfies his soul. “In idleness, though sweet at first, Dull care is apt to lurk. But happier he, it seems to me, Who spends his time in work.”
It was rather a nice song.
“Excellent!” said the King. “Now show me the work, and I will do it.”
The footman led the way to a cellar, and there were two heaps of great stones, and beside them lay a hammer.
“There,” he said. “If you could kindly make it convenient to break those stones up small, we should esteem it a personal favour, and in the meantime I will be getting your room ready. I’ll make you a nice cup of bread-and-milk to eat in bed. That’s the hammer by the stones. You grasp it firmly in the two hands by the handle — that’s this end here — and hit a stone with it. And by a curious process which it would take too long to explain, the stone will break into smaller stones. You then hit each of the smaller stones in the same manner, and in time you will find that the heap has become a lot of very small stones indeed. Then you come upstairs. Good-bye.”
The King knew nothing whatever about breaking stones, for the Lord Chief Roadmender always did the work of that kind in the palace, but he set to, and in quite a short time all the stones were broken up so small that he could hardly see them. Then he put his hammer down, and went upstairs. And there, as the footman had promised, was the bread-and-milk steaming at the side of the bed on a chair. He enjoyed it more than he would have believed it possible that any one could enjoy bread-and-milk.
“Really,” he said to himself, “it’s a wonderful thing. Here am I, the King of Aldebaran, who usually find myself unable to eat anything more than a little wing of chicken, enjoying my bread-and-milk like a baby. It is really a fine invention, is work! When I get back to my palace, I must practise it more. Now I’ll go to sleep.” He went to sleep at once. He had never slept so well in his life before.
And when he got up in the morning. he felt so well that he danced twice round his room before coming down to breakfast.
To earn his breakfast he had to pump water from a well. It was quite a new experience. At the palace the Lord Chief Ostler had always done it for him. He quite enjoyed it, and when he had finished he enjoyed his breakfast still more.