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dancing with grateful enthusiasm; cast four of his pennies into his
mother's lap and cried out--
"
They are for thee!--all of them, every one!--for thee and Nan and Bet
-and honestly come by, not begged nor stolen!"
-
The happy and astonished mother strained him to her breast and
exclaimed--
"It waxeth late--may it please your Majesty to rise?"
Ah! that was not the answer he was expecting. The dream had snapped
asunder--he was awake.
He opened his eyes--the richly clad First Lord of the Bedchamber was
kneeling by his couch. The gladness of the lying dream faded away--the
poor boy recognised that he was still a captive and a king. The room was
filled with courtiers clothed in purple mantles--the mourning colour--and
with noble servants of the monarch. Tom sat up in bed and gazed out from
the heavy silken curtains upon this fine company.
The weighty business of dressing began, and one courtier after another
knelt and paid his court and offered to the little King his condolences
upon his heavy loss, whilst the dressing proceeded. In the beginning, a
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