"That's nice!" said Henry, advancing. "Bad sons, indeed! Never had a better lot in all my life. Really, my lord, that ought to count for four lies right off. The idea of calling my Johnny a bad boy. Why, my lord, he was his father's own boy. You've only to look at him; and if he was a bit of a romp, why, so were you and I in our day." "Speak for yourself," said Henry the Eighth severely. "But what about Becket?" "Ah, well, there was a little accident, I believe, about him, and he got hurt. But I assure you I never touched him; in fact, I was a hundred miles away at the time. I'll prove an alibi if you like." "No, no," said the judge; "that is quite sufficient. Chalk down two, Nigger: one for Becket and one for the bad family. How many does that come to?" "That's eight," said the Black Prince. "All right. We only want two more. Go on." "`Richard the First, surnamed the Lion Heart, was the strongest and bravest man in England, and won many glorious battles in the Holy Land.'" "Hullo, I say," said the judge. "That's pitching it just a little strong, isn't it? What have you got to say to that, Dicky?" "Seems pretty square," said Richard modestly. "He doesn't say what a good dentist I was, though. My! the dozens I used to pull out; and--oh, I say--look here, he says nothing about Blondel, and the tune I composed. That's far more important than the Crusades. It was an andante in F minor, you know, and--" "That'll do, that'll do, Dicky. We've heard that before," interrupted the judge. "Score him down half a lie, Nigger, and call up Johnny." "`King John, surnamed Lackland, was a wicked king. He was forced to yield to the barons, and he lost all his clothes in the Wash.'" "Well, I never!" said John, foaming with rage; "if that isn't the coolest bit of lying I ever heard! Here have I been and worn my fingers to the bone writing Magna Charta and giving England all her liberties, and he never once mentions it! My lord and gentlemen, I should like to read you the document I hold in my hand, in order that you may judge--" "What, eh? Read that thing?" exclaimed Henry the Eighth, in horror. "You'd better try it on, that's all. Good gracious me, what next? I've a good mind to commit you for contempt of court. The question is, were you a wicked king? and did you lose your clothes in the Wash?" "I am surprised and pained that your lordship should ask me either question. When I assure you, my lord and gentlemen, that a more dutiful son, a wiser monarch, a tenderer husband, and a more estimable man than the humble individual who now addresses you, never drew--" "Teeth," put in Richard I. "No, breath," continued John. "And when I further tell you that I never even sent my clothes to the wash, and therefore could not possibly have lost them there, you will--"