games have been in use for hundreds of years; and princes as well as
poor children have spent some of their happiest hours in playing at
them.

Meanwhile King James and his nobles were feasting with Sir Oliver in the
great hall. The king sat in a gilded chair, under a canopy, at the head
of a long table. Whenever any of the company addressed him, it was with
the deepest reverence. If the attendants offered him wine or the
various delicacies of the festival, it was upon their bended knees. You
would have thought, by these tokens of worship, that the monarch was a
supernatural being; only he seemed to have quite as much need of those
vulgar matters, food and drink, as any other person at the table. But
fate had ordained that good King James should not finish his dinner in
peace.

All of a sudden there arose a terrible uproar in the room where the
children were at play. Angry shouts and shrill cries of alarm were
mixed up together; while the voices of elder persons were likewise
heard, trying to restore order among the children. The king and
everybody else at table looked aghast; for perhaps the tumult made them
think that a general rebellion had broken out.

"Mercy on us!" muttered Sir Oliver; "that graceless nephew of mine is in
some mischief or other. The naughty little whelp!"

Getting up from table, he ran to see what was the matter, followed by
many of the guests, and the king among them. They all crowded to the
door of the playroom.

On looking in, they beheld the little Prince Charles, with his rich