CHAPTER XIV.
"LE ROI EST MORT—VIVE LE ROI."
Toward daylight of the same morning, Tom Canty stirred out of a heavy sleep and opened his eyes in the dark. He lay silent a few moments, trying to analyze his confused thoughts and impressions, and get some sort of meaning out of them, then suddenly he burst out in a rapturous but guarded voice—
"I see it all, I see it all! Now God be thanked, I am indeed awake at last! Come, joy! vanish, sorrow! Ho, Nan! Bet! kick off your straw and hie ye hither to my side, till I do pour into your unbelieving ears the wildest madcap dream that ever the spirits of night did conjure up to astonish the soul of man withal! . . . Ho, Nan, I say! Bet!" . . .
A dim form appeared at his side, and a voice said—
"Wilt deign to deliver thy commands?"
"Commands? . . . O, woe is me, I know thy voice! Speak, thou—who am I?"
"Thou? In sooth, yesternight wert thou the prince of Wales, to-day art thou my most gracious liege, Edward, King of England."
Tom buried his head among his pillows, murmuring plaintively—
"Alack, it was no dream! Go to thy rest, sweet sir—leave me to my sorrows."
Tom slept again, and after a time he had this pleasant dream. He thought it was summer and he was playing, all alone, in the fair
