of the slums and back alleys was become a real King, with illustrious dukes and princes for his humble menials, and the English world at his feet!  But he had to deny himself, and choke down his desire, for such a recognition might cost more than it would come to:  so he turned away his head, and left the two soiled lads to go on with their shoutings and glad adulations, unsuspicious of whom it was they were lavishing them upon.

Every now and then rose the cry, “A largess! a largess!” and Tom responded by scattering a handful of bright new coins abroad for the multitude to scramble for.

The chronicler says, ’At the upper end of Gracechurch Street, before the sign of the Eagle, the city had erected a gorgeous arch, beneath which was a stage, which stretched from one side of the street to the other.  This was an historical pageant, representing the King’s immediate progenitors.  There sat Elizabeth of York in the midst of an immense white rose, whose petals formed elaborate furbelows around her; by her side was Henry VII., issuing out of a vast red rose, disposed in the same manner:  the hands of the royal pair were locked together, and the wedding-ring ostentatiously displayed.  From the red and white roses proceeded a stem, which reached up to a second stage, occupied by Henry VIII., issuing from a red and white rose, with the effigy of the new King’s mother, Jane Seymour, represented by his side.  One branch sprang from this pair, which mounted to a third stage, where sat the effigy of Edward VI. himself, enthroned in royal majesty; and the whole pageant was framed with wreaths of roses, red and white.’

This quaint and gaudy spectacle so wrought upon the rejoicing people, that their acclamations utterly smothered the small voice of the child whose business it was to explain the thing in eulogistic rhymes.  But Tom Canty was not sorry; for this loyal uproar was sweeter music to him than any poetry, no matter what its quality might be.  Whithersoever Tom turned his happy young face, the people recognised the exactness of his effigy’s likeness to himself, the flesh and blood counterpart; and new whirlwinds of applause burst forth.

The great pageant moved on, and still on, under one triumphal arch after another, and past a bewildering succession of spectacular and symbolical tableaux, each of which typified and exalted some virtue, or talent, or merit, of the little King’s.  ’Throughout the whole of Cheapside, from every penthouse and window, hung banners and streamers; and the richest carpets, stuffs, and cloth-of-gold tapestried the streets—­specimens of the great wealth of the stores within; and the splendour of this thoroughfare was equalled in the other streets, and in some even surpassed.’

“And all these wonders and these marvels are to welcome me—­me!” murmured Tom Canty.