For a happy week the War-Lord tarried in Kisington. He spent much of his time studying at the library, reading many books, but especially such tales as Harold thought the little Princess Hope would enjoy. Many of these he heard Harold read aloud; sometimes in the cozy alcoves of the library, where they could disturb no one; sometimes in the sumptuous apartments of the palace which King Victor had put at the disposal of Red Rex; oftenest and best of all in the little thatched cottage of Harold's mother, where the Red King came to feel perfectly at home. For one of the first things Harold did in his vacation time was to invite the War-Lord to dinner. "We shall have for dessert one of my mother's famous apple pies," promised Harold with a twinkle. The Red King blushed; but he accepted the invitation in a truly kingly spirit. There was now plenty to eat and drink in Harold's home, and a nice little maid to help his mother and make the days pleasanter. It was a very merry party that gathered around the table in the kitchen that night. Richard and Robert were there; for the Red King had taken a fancy to them, and they all talked together like old friends. The Red King had many thrilling adventures to tell them of his roving life. And Red Rex was learning many new and novel things of them all the while. For this was the first time he had ever eaten in a thatched cottage, or in the company of simple strangers. When the great pie was brought in, all steaming and spicy, Harold and the War-Lord exchanged a peculiar glance. "Your Majesty has tasted my pie before," said Harold's mother innocently. "I sent a piece with Harold's luncheon one day, and he tells me you approved of it. That is why we have it to-day for dessert." "Ah! I approve of it, indeed! I shall never forget your pie, dear little Mother!" cried the Red King with a laugh. "It is worth adventuring much to obtain even a bite of pies like yours." "They taste best of all at midnight," said Harold mischievously. "That I cannot believe," said Red Rex, frowning at him. "I never ate pie so delicious before this day!" "Do you think one piece of pie hot is worth five pies cold, Your Majesty?" asked Harold. "Yes, indeed!" cried the Red King, turning still redder. "Especially if eaten in such pleasant company." "So thought not the wicked old woman who stole my pies," said Harold's mother. "I wonder if she will ever dare to claim that beautiful shawl which she left behind her?" "I dare say not," frowned the Red King. "And inasmuch as the Lord Mayor declares that she must have been a native of my Kingdom, intruding within your walls, I hereby make over to you that shawl which she has forfeited by her wicked deed. Wear it henceforth without a qualm, Mother." She wore it to church the very next Sunday, and all the ladies envied her this last piece of good luck which seemed to follow the coming of the Red King.