remembering how that these trusted me and believed in me in my
time of trouble; whilst they that were older, and thought
themselves wiser, mocked at me and held me for a liar.”
The children’s mother received the King kindly, and was full of
pity; for his forlorn condition and apparently crazed intellect
touched her womanly heart. She was a widow, and rather poor;
consequently she had seen trouble enough to enable her to feel for
the unfortunate. She imagined that the demented boy had wandered
away from his friends or keepers; so she tried to find out whence
he had come, in order that she might take measures to return him;
but all her references to neighbouring towns and villages, and all
her inquiries in the same line went for nothing–the boy’s face,
and his answers, too, showed that the things she was talking of
were not familiar to him. He spoke earnestly and simply about
court matters, and broke down, more than once, when speaking of
the late King ‘his father’; but whenever the conversation changed
to baser topics, he lost interest and became silent.
The woman was mightily puzzled; but she did not give up. As she
proceeded with her cooking, she set herself to contriving devices
to surprise the boy into betraying his real secret. She talked
about cattle–he showed no concern; then about sheep–the same
result: so her guess that he had been a shepherd boy was an
error; she talked about mills; and about weavers, tinkers, smiths,
trades and tradesmen of all sorts; and about Bedlam, and jails,
and charitable retreats: but no matter, she was baffled at all
points. Not altogether, either; for she argued that she had
narrowed the thing down to domestic service. Yes, she was sure
she was on the right track, now; he must have been a house
servant. So she led up to that. But the result was discouraging.
The subject of sweeping appeared to weary him; fire-building
failed to stir him; scrubbing and scouring awoke no enthusiasm.
The goodwife touched, with a perishing hope, and rather as a
matter of form, upon the subject of cooking. To her surprise, and
her vast delight, the King’s face lighted at once! Ah, she had
hunted him down at last, she thought; and she was right proud,
too, of the devious shrewdness and tact which had accomplished it.
Her tired tongue got a chance to rest, now; for the King’s,
inspired by gnawing hunger and the fragrant smells that came from
the sputtering pots and pans, turned itself loose and delivered
itself up to such an eloquent dissertation upon certain toothsome
dishes, that within three minutes the woman said to herself, “Of a
truth I was right–he hath holpen in a kitchen!” Then he
broadened his bill of fare, and discussed it with such
appreciation and animation, that the goodwife said to herself,
“Good lack! how can he know so many dishes, and so fine ones
withal? For these belong only upon the tables of the rich and
great. Ah, now I see! ragged outcast as he is, he must have
served in the palace before his reason went astray; yes, he must
have helped in the very kitchen of the King himself! I will test
him.”
Full of eagerness to prove her sagacity, she told the King to mind
the cooking a moment–hinting that he might manufacture and add a
dish or two, if he chose; then she went out of the room and gave
her children a sign to follow after. The King muttered–
“Another English king had a commission like to this, in a bygone
time–it is nothing against my dignity to undertake an office
which the great Alfred stooped to assume. But I will try to
better serve my trust than he; for he let the cakes burn.”
The intent was good, but the performance was not answerable to it,
for this King, like the other one, soon fell into deep thinkings
concerning his vast affairs, and the same calamity resulted–the
cookery got burned. The woman returned in time to save the
breakfast from entire destruction; and she promptly brought the
King out of his dreams with a brisk and cordial tongue-lashing.