The King rolled over and looked at Dorothy with one watery pink eye.
Then he sat up and wiped his eyes carefully with a silk handkerchief
and put on his jeweled crown, which had fallen off.
"Excuse my grief, fair stranger," he said, in a sad voice.
"You behold in me the most miserable monarch in all the world.
What time is it, Blinkem?"
"One o'clock, your Majesty," replied the attendant to whom the
question was addressed.
"Serve luncheon at once!" commanded the King. "Luncheon for
two--that's for my visitor and me--and see that the human has some
sort of food she's accustomed to."
"Yes, your Majesty," answered the attendant, and went away.
"Tie my shoe, Bristle," said the King to the Keeper of the Wicket.
"Ah me! how unhappy I am!"
"What seems to be worrying your Majesty?" asked Dorothy.
"Why, it's this king business, of course," he returned, while the
Keeper tied his shoe. "I didn't want to be King of Bunnybury at all,
and the rabbits all knew it. So they elected me--to save themselves
from such a dreadful fate, I suppose--and here I am, shut up in a
palace, when I might be free and happy.
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