Bud looked down the room and saw Aunt Rivette struggling with some of the guards. Then she broke away from them and rushed to the throne, crylng again:
“Justice, your Majesty!”
“What's the matter with you?” asked Bud.
“Matter? Everything ’s the matter with me. Are n’t you the new king?”
“Yes,” said Bud. “That’s what I am.”
“Am I not your aunt? Am I not your aunt?”
“Yes,” said Bud, again.
“Well, why am I left to live in a hut and dress in rags? Doesn't the law say that every blood relation of the king shall live in a royal palace?”
“Does it?” asked Bud, turning to Tullydub.
“The law says so, your Majesty.”
“And must [ have that old crosspatch around me all the time?” wailed the new king.
“Crosspatch yourself!" screamed Aunt Rivette, shaking her fist at Bud. “I ‘ll teach you to crosspatch me when I get you alone!”
“The animal suddenly gave a wild kick that sent the startled woman in a heap upon the floor with her head stuck fast in the milk-pail.”
Bud shuddered. Then he turned again to Tullydub.
“The king can do what he likes, can’t he?” the boy asked.
“Certainly, your Majesty.”
“Then let the lord high executioner step forward!"
“Oh, Bud! What are you going to do?” said Fluff, seizing him tightly by the arm.
“You let me alone!” answered Bud. “I ’m not going to be a king for nothing. And Aunt Rivette whipped me once—sixteen hard switches! I counted ’em.”
The executioner was now bowing before him.
“Get a switch,” commanded the king,
The executioner brought a long, slender birch bough.
“Now,” said Bud, “you give Aunt Rivette sixteen good switches.”
“Oh, don’t! Don’t, Bud!” pleaded Meg.
