

He stared at the King again--and thought, _Is_ it a dream . . . or _is_
he the veritable Sovereign of England, and not the friendless poor Tom
o Bedlam I took him for--who shall solve me this riddle?

A sudden idea flashed in his eye, and he strode to the wall, gathered up
a chair, brought it back, planted it on the floor, and sat down in it!

A buzz of indignation broke out, a rough hand was laid upon him and a
voice exclaimed--

Up, thou mannerless clown! wouldst sit in the presence of the King?

The disturbance attracted his Majestys attention, who stretched forth
his hand and cried out--

Touch him not, it is his right!

The throng fell back, stupefied.