Peter, “I wonder that they take so much time for holidays.”
So he ran quickly to a high, white place in the midst of the town, where they were making ready to erect the throne of the king of the carnival, and on that he stood and cried:—
“Hear me—hear me! The world is beginning. You must go and help the king.” Now, if those about the carnival throne had only said: “What is that to us? Go away!” Peter would have been warned. But they only nodded, and they said kindly: “Yes, so it is—and we mean to help presently. Come and help us first!” And one of the revellers, seeing Peter, how little he was, picked him up and held him at arm’s length and cried:—
“Lo, now, this little lad. He is no bigger than a trumpet . . .”
(That was what the king had said, and it pleased Peter to hear it said again.)
“. . . Let us take him,” the revellers went on, “and have him for a trumpet. And take him with us in our great procession. What think ye?”
“And may I cry out what message I please?” little Peter asked eagerly.
