"I believe you have kept me waiting," said the King, "as Louis once
said." He gazed at me from under knotted eyebrows. "I wish,"
petulantly, "that you had remained in your own country."
"So do I, Your Majesty," I replied honestly. The Chancellor shook with
laughter, and the King glared at him furiously.
"What is your name?" asked the King in a milder tone. He was holding a
missive in his hand.
"John Winthrop," I answered. I was wondering what it was all about.
"Were you born in America?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Is your family an honored one in your country?"
"It is," I answered proudly.
"Then, why in heaven's name do you scribble?" cried the King.
"In my country one may have an honored name and still be compelled to
earn a competence."
"Ah, yes! After all, scribbling is better than owning a shop." This
is the usual argument of Kings. "Can you trace your pedigree very far
back?" the King proceeded.
"My ancestors came over in the Mayflower," said I.
"The Mayflower?" said the King, puzzled.
"All the Americans," explained the Chancellor, "went over in the
Mayflower. The ark and the Mayflower were the largest ships ever put
to sea, Your Majesty." To hide his smile, the Chancellor passed over
to the window and began drawing pictures on the frosted panes.
Continued the King: "If you loved one of my countrywomen, would you be
willing to sacrifice your own country? I mean, would you be willing to
adopt mine, to become a naturalized citizen, to uphold its laws, to
obey the will of its sovereign, and to take up arms in its defense?"
My knees began to knock together. "I should be willing," I answered,
"if I should never be called upon to bear arms against the country in
which I was born."
"I should never ask you to do that," replied the King.
"No; His Majesty has too wholesome a respect for America," the
Chancellor interpolated.
"Prince," said the King, "go and finish your window panes."
The Chancellor meekly obeyed.
"This is your answer?" said the King to me.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Then marry the Princess Elizabeth," he said, tossing the missive to me.
"Yes, marry her," said the irrepressible Chancellor; "and some day the
King will put a medal on your breast and make you a baron of the realm.
Your Majesty, come and help me with this last pane."