the Constable, tapping him on the shoulder, "anything you like for yourself, but, as a matter of etiquette, the King's message should come first."
"Oh, aye, Constable," said Simon. "You're always so down on a man, aren't you? Well then, madame, the King has enjoyed fine sport. For we started a boar at eleven, and"
"Is this the King's message, Simon?" asked the Queen, smiling in genuine amusement, but impatiently.
"Why no, madame, not precisely His Majesty's message."
"Then get to it, man, in Heaven's name!" growled Sapt testily. For here were we four (the Queen, too, one of us!) on tenterhooks, while the fool boasted about the sport that he had shown the King. For every boar in the forest Simon took as much credit as though he, and not Almighty God, had made the animal. It is always the way with such fellows.
Simon became a little confused under the combined influence of his own seductive memories and Sapt's brusque exhortations.
"As I was saying, madame," he resumed, "the boar led us a long way, but at last the hounds pulled him down, and His Majesty himself gave the coup de grace. Well, then it was very late"
"It's no earlier now," grumbled the Constable.
