a turkey cock, and all his ministers attending him standing sword in hand. He thought this time it was all up with him. Happily, he remembered that there was still one remaining friend, and he cried with dying accents:
‘Wasp’s-nest, Wasp’s-nest, make a sally,
Or Drakestail nevermore may rally.’
Hereupon the scene changes.
Bs, bs, bayonet them!’ The brave Wasp’s-nest rushes out
with all his wasps. They threw themselves on the infuriated King and his ministers, and stung them so fiercely in the face that they lost their heads, and not knowing where to hide themselves they all jumped pell-mell from the window and broke their necks on the pavement.
Behold Drakestail much astonished, all alone in the big saloon and master of the field. He could not get over it.
Nevertheless, he remembered shortly what he had come for to the palace, and improving the occasion, he set to work to hunt for
