The Prince and the Pauper by Mark Twain (best new books to read TXT) 📕

same line went for nothing—the boy’s face, and his answers, too, showed that the things she was talking of were not familiar to him.  He spoke earnestly and simply about court matters, and broke down, more than once, when speaking of the late King ‘his father’; but whenever the conversation changed to baser topics, he lost interest and became silent.

The woman was mightily puzzled; but she did not give up.  As she proceeded with her cooking, she set herself to contriving devices to surprise the boy into betraying his real secret.  She talked about cattle—he showed no concern; then about sheep—the same result:  so her guess that he had been a shepherd boy was an error; she talked about mills; and about weavers, tinkers, smiths, trades and tradesmen of all sorts; and about Bedlam, and jails, and charitable retreats:  but no matter, she was baffled at all points.  Not altogether, either; for she argued that she had narrowed the thing down to domestic service.  Yes, she was sure she was on the right track, now; he must have been a house servant.  So she led up to that.  But the result was discouraging. The subject of sweeping appeared to weary him; fire-building failed to stir him; scrubbing and scouring awoke no enthusiasm. The goodwife touched, with a perishing hope, and rather as a matter of form, upon the subject of cooking.  To her surprise, and her vast delight, the King’s face lighted at once!  Ah, she had hunted him down at last, she thought; and she was right proud, too, of the devious shrewdness and tact which had accomplished it.

Her tired tongue got a chance to rest, now; for the King’s, inspired by gnawing hunger and the fragrant smells that came from the sputtering pots and pans, turned itself loose and delivered itself up to such an eloquent dissertation upon certain toothsome dishes, that within three minutes the woman said to herself, “Of a truth I was right—he hath holpen in a kitchen!”  Then he broadened his bill of fare, and discussed it with such appreciation and animation, that the goodwife said to herself, “Good lack! how can he know so many dishes, and so fine ones withal?  For these belong only upon the tables of the rich and great.  Ah, now I see! ragged outcast as he is, he must have served in the palace before his reason went astray; yes, he must have helped in the very kitchen of the King himself!  I will test him.”

Full of eagerness to prove her sagacity, she told the King to mind the cooking a moment—hinting that he might manufacture and add a dish or two, if he chose; then she went out of the room and gave her children a sign to follow after.  The King muttered—

“Another English king had a commission like to this, in a bygone time—it is nothing against my dignity to undertake an office which the great Alfred stooped to assume.  But I will try to better serve my trust than he; for he let the cakes burn.”

The intent was good, but the performance was not answerable to it, for this King, like the other one, soon fell into deep thinkings concerning his vast affairs, and the same calamity resulted—the cookery got burned. The woman returned in time to save the breakfast from entire destruction; and she promptly brought the King out of his dreams with a brisk and cordial tongue-lashing. Then, seeing how troubled he was over his violated trust, she softened at once, and was all goodness and gentleness toward him.