At last there sounded the blast of a trumpet, which told that the King and his bride had arrived, and that the Lord Mayor had led them to their seats on the balcony in front of the Town Hall. Every one gave a sigh of relief. But then there was another long wait, while the hands of the clock crept on--on, and the people watched and craned their necks eagerly. The Lord Mayor was making his speech, and it was very long. Finally arose more shouts and huzzas,--not because the speech was good, but because it was ended. And presently another trumpet gave signal for the procession to start. Off they went, through the streets full of cheering, hungry people. Soldiers and bands of music led the way; then came the maskers and the flower-maidens, the city guilds and all the arts and crafts. Finally passed along the yoke of snowy oxen, with ribbons in their ears, drawing a white wain in which were the bags of flour and silver, the prize to be given the best pie-maker of Kisington. When the company of white-capped cooks came within sight of the King, he laughed merrily, rubbing his hands, and said:-- "Cooks! Now we shall have something worth while, for I am growing hungry, indeed!" And the young Queen whispered: "So am I!" Then came the pies. And such pies! Carried on the shoulders of sturdy boys, drawn on floats by teams of ponies, wreathed in flowers and stuck over with banners and mottoes, the pies passed along before the hungry King. And not one of the pies was real! Gradually the King's smile faded. There was a wonderful big pie fashioned like a ship,--rigged with masts and sails and manned by sailor-dolls. There was a fine brown pasty like a bird's nest, and when it passed the King, off came the cover, and out flew four-and-twenty blackbirds croaking lustily. "Good-bye, dinner!" sighed the King, looking after them wistfully. The Queen nudged him and said: "'Sh! Behave, Your Majesty!" But she also began to look hungrier and hungrier. There passed a pie in a carriage drawn by six mules. It seemed piping hot, for steam came out of it. But when it reached the King it blew up with a _bang!_ scattering showers of blossoms over the royal party. "My faith!" cried the King; "methought this was the end of all things. But it seems not. Here come more and more empty pies!" The Queen smelled of her salts and grew paler every moment. One pie had a musical box inside and played a sweet tune as it passed the King. In one was hidden a tiny dwarf, who popped out like a jack-in-the-box when the Queen pulled a golden cord. Still the procession moved on, and so did the hands of the clock; and the King's hands moved to his ample girdle, which he tightened sharply. But both he and the pale young Queen were too polite to ask the Lord Mayor for buns or something to sustain them.