"'Take him to the palace, and we will have some sport with him. I will cause him to be washed and dressed and perfumed, and to be laid in a chamber of state. He will awake sober in the morning, when we will persuade him that _he_ is the Duke, and that we are his attendants. To-morrow the whole Court of Burgundy shall serve a poor tinker!' "The attendants carried the unconscious tinker to the palace, where they washed him, and, putting upon him an elegant night-dress, laid him on a silk-curtained bed, in a very gorgeous chamber. "The poor tinker, on waking in the morning, looked about the room in wonder. He concluded that he must be dreaming, or that he had become touched in mind, or that he had died the night before and had been so happy as to get to heaven. "At last, the Duke entered the apartment in the habit of the ducal chamberlain. "'What will your Worship have this morning?' asked the Duke. "The tinker stared. "'Has your Worship no commands?' "'I am Christopher Sly,--Sly, the tinker. Call me not your Worship.' "'You have not fully recovered yet, I see. But you will be yourself again soon. What suit will your Worship wear to-day? Which doublet, and what stockings and shoes?' [Illustration: AMAZEMENT OF CHRISTOPHER SLY.] "'I have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings than legs, nor more shoes than feet; nay, sometime, more feet than shoes. I tell you I am Christopher Sly, and I am a tinker,' was the puzzled reply. "But the ducal chamberlain only bowed the more. "Sly continued to look about him in amazement. At last, he said, with much hesitation,-- "'You may bring me my best suit. The day is pleasant. I will dress becomingly.' "'Now you are yourself again. I must hasten to inform the Court of your recovery. I must fly to her Grace the Duchess, and say, "The Duke, the Duke is himself again!"' "'The Duke! I tell you I am Christopher Sly,--old Sly's son, of Burton Heath,--by birth a peddler and by trade a tinker. Duke Sly! No. Duke Christopher! or, better, Duke Christophero! Marry, friend! wouldn't that sound well? It may be I am a duke, for all. Go ask Marian Hacket, the buxom inn-keeper of Wincot, if she don't know Christopher Sly,--Duke Christophero; and if she say I do not owe her fourteen pence for small ale, then call me the biggest liar and knave in Christendom!' "The servants presently brought the poor tinker a silver basin, 'full of rose-water, and bestrewed with flowers.' Then they brought him a suit of crimson, trimmed with lace and starred. The bewildered fellow stared awhile in silence; then he slowly put on the gorgeous apparel. "The tinker next was conducted to a magnificent banqueting-hall, where was spread a rich feast. The tables smoked with venison and sparkled with wine. He was led to a high seat beneath a canopy of silk and gold, the Duchess following, and seating herself by his side. Knights and ladies filled the tables, and the tinker began to feast and to sip wine like a duke indeed.