don these splendours, lad! It is a brief happiness, but will be
not less keen for that. We will have it while we may, and change
again before any come to molest.”
A few minutes later the little Prince of Wales was garlanded with
Tom’s fluttering odds and ends, and the little Prince of Pauperdom
was tricked out in the gaudy plumage of royalty. The two went and
stood side by side before a great mirror, and lo, a miracle:
there did not seem to have been any change made! They stared at
each other, then at the glass, then at each other again. At last
the puzzled princeling said–
“What dost thou make of this?”
“Ah, good your worship, require me not to answer. It is not meet
that one of my degree should utter the thing.”
“Then will _I_ utter it. Thou hast the same hair, the same eyes,
the same voice and manner, the same form and stature, the same
face and countenance that I bear. Fared we forth naked, there is
none could say which was you, and which the Prince of Wales. And,
now that I am clothed as thou wert clothed, it seemeth I should be
able the more nearly to feel as thou didst when the brute soldier-
-Hark ye, is not this a bruise upon your hand?”
“Yes; but it is a slight thing, and your worship knoweth that the
poor man-at-arms–”
“Peace! It was a shameful thing and a cruel!” cried the little
prince, stamping his bare foot. “If the King–Stir not a step
till I come again! It is a command!”
In a moment he had snatched up and put away an article of national
importance that lay upon a table, and was out at the door and
flying through the palace grounds in his bannered rags, with a hot
face and glowing eyes. As soon as he reached the great gate, he
seized the bars, and tried to shake them, shouting–
“Open! Unbar the gates!”
The soldier that had maltreated Tom obeyed promptly; and as the
prince burst through the portal, half-smothered with royal wrath,
the soldier fetched him a sounding box on the ear that sent him
whirling to the roadway, and said–
“Take that, thou beggar’s spawn, for what thou got’st me from his
Highness!”
The crowd roared with laughter. The prince picked himself out of
the mud, and made fiercely at the sentry, shouting–
“I am the Prince of Wales, my person is sacred; and thou shalt
hang for laying thy hand upon me!”
The soldier brought his halberd to a present-arms and said
mockingly–
“I salute your gracious Highness.” Then angrily– “Be off, thou
crazy rubbish!”
Here the jeering crowd closed round the poor little prince, and
hustled him far down the road, hooting him, and shouting–
“Way for his Royal Highness! Way for the Prince of Wales!”
Chapter IV. The Prince’s troubles begin.
After hours of persistent pursuit and persecution, the little
prince was at last deserted by the rabble and left to himself. As
long as he had been able to rage against the mob, and threaten it
royally, and royally utter commands that were good stuff to laugh
at, he was very entertaining; but when weariness finally forced
him to be silent, he was no longer of use to his tormentors, and
they sought amusement elsewhere. He looked about him, now, but
could not recognise the locality. He was within the city of
London–that was all he knew. He moved on, aimlessly, and in a
little while the houses thinned, and the passers-by were
infrequent. He bathed his bleeding feet in the brook which flowed
then where Farringdon Street now is; rested a few moments, then
passed on, and presently came upon a great space with only a few
scattered houses in it, and a prodigious church. He recognised
this church. Scaffoldings were about, everywhere, and swarms of
workmen; for it was undergoing elaborate repairs. The prince took
heart at once–he felt that his troubles were at an end, now. He
said to himself, “It is the ancient Grey Friars’ Church, which the
king my father hath taken from the monks and given for a home for