"Well, I can't say as to that," replied the Widow Pickle, "for my grandmother taught me how to make them. But I may say with some pride that the Governor of our State once ate of my Waffles and asked for two more, and in my family that was considered very high praise, indeed. I should like to try one on your King, if he is troubled with his stomach." "That might be quite a fine idea," said the Private Secretary, "and if you don't object, I shall place the matter before his Royal Highness. I have never seen this that you call a Waffle, but if it will make the King forget his royal trouble it may be very much better for him and for all the rest of us." "I should be very glad, indeed, to be of any slight assistance that I may," said the Widow Pickle modestly. "But, hush!" whispered the Private Secretary. "He is coming this way. May I suggest that just as he steps across that white line which you see marked upon the ground, you make him a deep reverence? I think you call it a courtesy in your country." "Very well," said the Widow Pickle, "but I shall do no more than courtesy, and shall not make it too deep even in that case, for I myself come of a very proud family." "Hush!" whispered the Private Secretary again. And now the King came forward, fixing upon them the keen glance of his royal eye. Seeing this, Lulu and Zuzu grasped their mother's gown in their hands and shrank back behind her, much frightened. The Private Secretary bowed flat upon the ground and began to say "Ah-h-h!" very fast.