As one of the Knights of the Thorn he himself had been obliged to attend the ceremony; and by some it was noticed that, as he stood holding a golden ewer in his two hands, he looked very cross. But all the other Knights of the Thorn--those who had towels and soap as perquisites--enjoyed themselves thoroughly and were already looking forward to a repetition of the performance next year. Even in their case, then, the King had proved to be right,--forms and ceremonies accompanied by fine clothes were still popular things; the Order of the New Broom would not be yet. III And then, with blare of trumpet and clash of drum, with troopings and marchings, with garlanded streets and miles upon miles of cheering people, came the great Jubilee festivities. Silver was the note of the decorations--silver in the midst of green spring. The Queen herself wore silver gowns and bonnets of heliotrope, and the King a uniform wherein silver braid formed the becoming substitute for gold. Corporations came carrying silver caskets; army pensioners and school-children, feted at the public expense, received white metal mementoes which, while new at any rate, looked as real as any coin of the realm. For a whole week the piebald ponies really worked for their living, grumbling loudly between whiles in their stalls; for a whole week "loyalty" was the note on which the press harped its seraphic praises of monarchy and nation; and for a whole week people actually did drop politics, reduce their hours of labor, and run about enjoying themselves. The poet laureate published an ode for the occasion; he remarked on the passing of time, said that the King had acquired wisdom and understanding, but that the Queen did not look a day older; said that the trees were green on that day twenty-five years ago when the King ascended the throne, and that they were green still; said that cows ate grass then, and were eating it now without any decrease of appetite; said, in fact, that nothing sweet, reasonable, or beautiful had really changed at all, and that the monarchy, taking its constitutional day by day, was the national expression of that unchangeableness. The day after the appearance of his poem he received that titular recognition for lack of which a poet laureate must feel that he has lived in vain. And then, all this unchangeableness of things having been thus ratified and sealed with the official seal, the King, his ministers, and the whole political world advanced to the edge of changes such as the country had not seen the like of for the last hundred years. CHAPTER VIII PACE-MAKING IN POLITICS I Inside the Council, meanwhile, curious and uncomfortable things had been happening. The King's talkativeness had steadily increased; no one could reduce him to reason.