did not move at all; he was quite dead. And, all taking turns, they
hacked off his head with the carving-knife. Then Æneas had it to play
with, which was quite appropriate, and a good instance of the sarcasm
of destiny.

The King was notified of the death of the Pumpkin Giant, and was
greatly rejoiced thereby. His Giant's Shakes ceased, the props were
removed from the throne, and the Princess Ariadne Diana was allowed to
go out without her body-guard of fifty knights, much to her delight,
for she found them a great hindrance to the enjoyment of her daily
outings.

It was a great cross, not to say an embarrassment, when she was
gleefully rolling in pursuit of a charming red and gold butterfly, to
find herself suddenly stopped short by an armed knight with his lance
in rest.

But the King, though his gratitude for the noble deed knew no bounds,
omitted to give the promised reward and knight Patroclus.

I hardly know how it happened--I don't think it was anything
intentional. Patroclus felt rather hurt about it, and Daphne would
have liked to be a lady, but Æneas did not care in the least. He had
the Giant's head to play with and that was reward enough for him.
There was not a boy in the neighborhood but envied him his possession
of such a unique plaything; and when they would stand looking over the
wall of the potato-field with longing eyes, and he was flying over the
ground with the head, his happiness knew no bounds; and Æneas played
so much with the Giant's head that finally late in the fall it got
broken and scattered all over the field.