"Then you had better see the King yourself. You have only a week left; and he has already begun looking at the weather-glass and wondering if it's going to be fine." "That's just like him!" said the Prime Minister. "Yes, and he's getting more like himself every day. My part is not a sinecure, I can assure you." Accordingly the Prime Minister went over to the Palace and saw the King. Informed as to what line of argument had already been tried and failed, he approached the matter from a new standpoint: he spoke in the name of Protestantism. This ceremony had only survived in Catholic countries; in Jingalo the Reformation had killed it, and it had gone with graven images, the invocation of saints, and the worship of relics to the limbo of forgotten foolishnesses. "The Charter of the Holy Thorn has not gone," said the King. "Nor has your Majesty's title to the Crown of Jerusalem; but who ever thinks of enforcing it?" "I am willing to resign it any day," replied his Majesty. "I can also, if you think it advisable, abolish the Charter of the Holy Thorn and the Knighthood with it. But I don't think the Knights would quite like that." "If it comes to a question of liking," said the Prime Minister, "I do not think they will quite like washing beggars' feet in public." "Oh, I do the washing and the drying," said the King. "They only carry the basins and put on the boots. I have looked up the whole ceremony; it's very impressive. You have only to read it and you will become converted: it is so symbolical." The Prime Minister objected that though in its origin the ceremony might have had symbolic meaning and beauty, its performance now-a-days would be looked upon as a mere form and superstition, contrary to the spirit of the age. This reminded the King of a certain "maxim."