The Imps' laughter rang out, blithe and free, through the garden, and about the house. Whenever their interest, or their energy failed, Judith was quick with some delectable proposal, unlimited in resource. With all their unspoilt imagination, Button and Bill were hard put to it, at times, to keep pace with the whims of their radiant, laughing mother. Judith played with all the abandon of a child, directed by the intellect of an adult. To the King this combination was irresistible. He had no thought now apart from the present moment. Once only, were he and Judith alone together. It was in the course of a wild game of hide and seek with which the play ended. It was their turn to hide. Quite by chance, they sought the same cover--a large rhododendron bush in the drive. They crouched together, behind the bush, side by side. Judith was flushed, panting a little, and a trifle dishevelled. "Isn't this fun?" she whispered, turning to him with shining eyes. "I am ten years old--for the first time," the King replied. Judith's face clouded. "When you were a boy--was the shadow there already?" she asked. "I think that it must have been, although I didn't know it," the King muttered. "I expect it was my own fault--but I was lonely. I knew, I think we all knew--that we were not like other children. It wasn't until I went to sea that--I was able to forget that I was a Prince!" "Poor, lonely, little Prince!" Judith murmured. "But when he went to sea, he was happy?" "The sea knocked a lot of nonsense out of me," the King replied. "At sea, a man is a man, and nothing else. When I had learnt that, I was happy." Then the Imps burst in upon them, and the play was at an end. Judith drove the Imps before her, into the house. For them--a light supper, and then, an early bedtime. The King made his way into the house in turn. It was time to dress for dinner. A rich content, a sense of absolute well-being, was with the King now. Was it not always so, when he had been with Judith, and the Imps? The bewilderment, the turmoil, and the fever, which had raged within him, only a few hours ago, seemed very far away. Here, in Paradise, the present moment was good! Insensibly--had Judith contrived it?--he had stepped into the quiet old inn of "Content," on the corner of the market-place. He had turned his back on--the procession--on the fight in the market-place. He would keep his back turned to them. He would not even risk the window view. Alfred, the sailor, was not dead! It was Alfred, the sailor, who entered the house. It was Alfred, the sailor, who passed into his own room. Here, a surprise awaited him. Laid out in the room were evening clothes. On the dressing-table were familiar toilet trifles from the palace. Alfred, the sailor, fled. It was the King, who halted, in the middle of the room, and looked about him.