“This morning they had come well before daylight, and were playing their games by the light of the gas flares that blazed outside in the King's Road. It was a freezing, foggy morning, and the snow, by now several inches deep, glowed like dusty gold as the children kicked and pranced and sang their rhymes. "Mingle, mangle, mingle," they sang, running and criss-ing and crossing, catching and swinging round one another if they met, then loosing and running on again. "Mingle, mangle, mingle, Poor Ki...ng Dick is single— Not a chick, not a wife To cheer his lonely life, Not a sweetheart, not a friend To cheer his latter end!" Then they all turned and raced for the plane tree that grew by the porter's lodge. The last one to reach it was given the part of King Dick, and sat sorrowfully on the fountain in the middle of the court. "Let us choose, let us pick," sang the others: "Pick a wife for lonely Dick. Is she nimble, is she quick. Can she jump over a walking stick?" Then they began setting each other a series of trials—leapfrogging, jumping over sticks held higher and higher, balancing along the rails of the fence, turning cartwheels, handstands, and somersaults, until one could be judged the best, suitable to marry the bachelor king.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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