Judith appeared, advancing through the trees. Button ran to meet her. Bill remained faithful to the King's knee. The King frowned. He understood, suddenly, he thought, why Judith had sent the Imps to wake him. The Imps were protection, safety. Judith was right, of course. It was wise of her to take such precautions--in self-defence. And yet, somehow, at the moment, he resented her wisdom. "You have had a good sleep, Alfred," Judith said, smiling pleasantly, as she halted beside him. "It is nearly six o'clock now. We came, and looked at you, at tea-time, but you were so fast asleep, it seemed a shame to wake you." The King's resentment fell from him. He felt ashamed of himself. It was of him, and not of herself--did she ever think of herself?--that Judith had been thinking. "I feel very much better, thank you. The rest has done me good," he said. "Uncle Alfred has been telling us about the King, mother," Button explained. "He says he doesn't think the King likes being King very much. He can't do what he likes, just as you said. They won't let him wear his sword even, and he can't fight for himself. He has to let other people fight for him. I'm glad I'm not King. I'd rather be a sailor, and wear daddy's sword." The King put Bill down off his knee, and stood up hastily, glad to avoid, in this way, meeting Judith's glance-- "Picaback! Picaback!" Bill cried. "A race!" Button shouted. It was the Imps' hour for play. Always, in the evening, between tea and dinner, Judith joined them, in the garden, in a riotous frolic. This evening the King, too, was inevitably, pressed into their service. The King mounted Bill on his shoulders, willingly enough. Button claimed Judith as his mettlesome charger. The race, it was decided, should be to the house. And so, with Button urging Judith forward, and Bill spurring the King on, remorselessly, with his heels, the race began. The result was, for some time, in doubt. Ultimately, going all out across the lawn, Bill, on the King, won by a short length. Whether Bill, or the King, was the more delighted at this success, it would have taken a very acute observer to judge. In the ensuing hour, the King found himself called upon to play a variety of parts, which would have made exhaustive demands upon the resources of the most experienced quick-change artist. A Wild Beast in the trees, Man Friday, a Red Indian, a Cannibal King, and a Policeman, were amongst his more prominent rôles. Flinging himself into the spirit of the play, with a gusto which he caught, in part, from Judith, he entirely forgot himself.