Just when their labor promised to be light, with the crest of the hill almost reached, they stopped to take their breath, and in doing so relinquished their hold on the melon.
Bumpety-bumpety! it started rolling down the hill. Both ran after it in pursuit, then realizing that they were being distanced stood stock-still with horror on their faces. Bumpety-bumpety! came the big melon, with ever increasing momentum, while the eyes of Florimel and all the rest followed its erratic course down the hill--bumpety-bumpety!--with leaps and bounds--bumpety-bumpety!--first to one side, then to another, bumpety-bumpety!--till it finished with an extra high bound and squashed all to pieces right in their very midst. Little jets of sweet water shot in all directions from its sides as though projected from a syphon, and out from the juicy, luscious, red pulp exposed to view there crawled sheepishly on his hands and knees a little weazened old fellow who wore an ermine cape and gold crown.
"Hail, Your Majesty!" shouted all the Brownies, and the little old fellow stood up, rubbed himself, and said, rather ruefully:
Then the Brownies, under the leadership of the Dude, yelled, in perfect unison:
"'Rah! 'rah! 'rah! Stan-is-laus! Siss-boom-ah!"
"Thanks!" graciously acknowledged His Majesty, adding by way of explanation:
"I chose this watermelon green To shun the treacherous submarine!"
Then a puzzled expression came to his face as his eye suddenly observed Florimel.
"Why, who's this fellow?" he demanded. "You're not trying to make a Brownie of him, are you?"
Florimel's heart sank, for he realized that here was the king himself, whose word was absolute law to all these little people.
If he frowned down on any plans they had made in his behalf, all the hopes that had sprung up in his breast would be ruthlessly shattered.
The Brownies seemed troubled too, for they would not have brought displeasure to King Stanislaus for all the world.
While the new-comer stood looking timidly down, without daring to meet the questioning gaze of that kindly but august monarch, his little companions made bold to extol his virtues real and imaginary till their tongues were all wagging at such a great rate that Florimel could not help but furiously blush.