‘It shall be choicer yet, Sir,’ said Sir Richard Whittington, who had just handed the Queen to her seat.

‘Scarce possible,’ replied Henry, ’unless I threw in my crown, and that I cannot afford.  I shall be pawning it ere long.’

Instead of answering, the Lord Mayor quietly put his hand into his furred pouch, and drawing out a bundle of parchments tied with a ribbon, held them towards the King, with a grave smile.

‘Lo you now, Sir Richard,’ said Henry, with a playful face of disgust; ’this is to save your dainty meats, by spoiling my appetite by that unwelcome sight.  What, man! have you bought up all the bonds I gave in my need to a whole synagogue of Jews and bench of Loin-bards?  I shall have to send for my crown before you let me go; though verily,’ he added, with frank, open face, ’I’m better off with a good friend like you for my creditor—­only I’m sorry for you, Sir Richard.  I fear it will be long ere you see your good gold in the stead of your dirty paper, even though I gave you an order on the tolls.  How now!  What, man, Dick Whittington!  Art raving?  Here, the tongs!’

For Sir Richard, gently smiling, had placed the bundle of bonds on the glowing bed of embers.

Henry, even while calling for the tongs, was raking them out with his sword, and would have grasped them in his hand in a moment, but the Lord Mayor caught his arm.

‘Pardon, my lord, and grant your new knight’s boon.’

‘When he is not moon-struck!’ said Henry, still guarding the documents.  ‘Why, my Lady Mayoress, know you what is here?’

‘Sixty thousand, my liege,’ composedly answered Dame Alice.  ’My husband hath his whims, and I pray your Grace not to hinder what he hath so long been preparing.’

‘Yea, Sir,’ added Whittington, earnestly.  ’You wot that God hath prospered us richly.  We have no child, and our nephews are well endowed.  How, then, can our goods belong to any save God, our king, and the poor?’

Henry drew one hand over his eyes, and with the other wrung that of Whittington.  ‘Had ever king such a subject?’ he murmured.

‘Had ever subject such a king?’ was Whittington’s return.

‘Thou hast conquered, Whittington,’ said the King, presently looking up with a sunny smile.  ’To send me over the seas a free man, beholden to you in heart though not by purse, is, as I well believe, worth all that sum to thy loyal heart.  Thou art setting me far on my way to Jerusalem, my dear friend!  Thank him, Kate—­he hath done much for thine husband!’

Catherine looked amiable, and held out a white hand to be kissed, aware that the King was pleased, though hardly understanding why he should be glad that an odour of singed parchment should overpower the gums and cinnamon.  This was soon remedied by the fresh handful of spices that were cast into the flame, and the banquet began, magnificent with peacocks, cranes, and swans in full plumage; the tusky bear crunched