“But you have a plenty of long-limbed stockings,” said father, wrinkling his brow.

“My good man, look here now!” answered mother, bristling, “well enough you know that all my stockings are very old and holey!”

“Oh, darn them!” growled father testily.

“Wilhelm, do you wish the king to see my stockings then?” cried mamma, angrily.

“But, my dear, you know that he can’t see, as he is stone-blind,” said father.

“So he is, Wilhelm, and for that very reason he could not find the throne of England,” snapped mother, “but never was he blind as you to his queenly wife’s unfashionable appearance, nor was he ever deaf to her demands for something decent to wear!”

And mother, as always when it came to ultimate extremes, finally gained her point, for father loved her dearly and dared not deny her.

On the following day arrived the king, for whose reception our township had made grand preparations.  Festoons of evergreen decorated the roadway from the parsonage to the opposite house, and mother and my sisters were stationed at our gate with an abundance of roses to strew in the king’s path.

From the steeple pealed the chimes, heralding his majesty’s arrival.  He traveled in an open landau, which was drawn by six milk-white Arabian steeds and surrounded by a select escort of young men who were his subjects and served as his guard of honor.

They wore scarfs of the royal colors over breasts and shoulders.

A courtier sat on either side of the king for the purpose of advising him and to direct his movements.

Poor man, he turned his sightless white eyes on us, bowing to the ladies in acknowledgment of their curtesies and roses.

This king was very unlike his royal namesake predecessors, as he was pitied by everyone and not envied or hated.  I must confess to having been sorely disappointed with this sight of royalty, for I thought a king must be an extraordinary being, expecting to see a double-header, as kings and queens are pictured on playing cards, the kings holding scepters in their left hands and bearing a ball with their right, but I saluted and shouted as everyone else did, and when my sisters pelted the royal equipage with their roses I shied my cap at his majesty, at which the people who saw this laughed as loudly as they dared in the presence of a king.  I expected also to see a military display, but there were no soldiers present, because the king traveled “incognito,” which means that it was forbidden to reveal his royal identity.  He was supposed to be a plain nobleman merely, “Herr von Beerstein” for instance.

But a king, who is human after all, may wish to enjoy himself as others do and desire to associate occasionally with ordinary people.  So “Herr von Beerstein” goes to a beer garden in quest of a pleasing companion who is readily found, for he has money to burn and invests it freely.

An obliging bar-maid introduces him to her lovely cousin and they retire to a lonely seat in the most secluded spot of the garden.