“Splendid game!” said Emelius. He managed to sound as if he meant it. His eye was on the Star of Astoroth, and he took the robe from the secretary bird. “May I help you with this?” he asked the king.
“Don’t mind if you do,” said His Majesty gracefully, so Emelius could put the robe around his shoulders.
Emelius draped the robe to his satisfaction, then leaned close to murmur to the king. “Your Majesty,” he said, “have you ever heard of something called the gypsy switch?”
“Don’t believe I have,” said the king.
“Remind me to tell you about it sometime,” murmured Emelius.
He gave the robe a final, fussy twitch and winked at Miss Price.
Miss Price saw that His Majesty no longer wore the Star of Astoroth. Instead, Emelius’s soccer whistle dangled beneath the king’s chin.
“Can’t tell when we’ve had such a good time!” said Emelius heartily. “We’ll carry the memory of Your Majesty in our hearts for a long time.”
“Yes,” said Miss Price. “I think we must leave.”
The king had been well pleased with Emelius’s performance as a referee. “Must you go so soon? Please stay,” he said in his courtliest manner.
Miss Price and the children were already out of the royal box. Emelius paused to assure the king that he had played a first-rate game. Then he hurried after Miss Price.
“That was not a highly principled action,” said Miss Price as they made for the beach. “It was, however, skillfully done.”
“Do not tarry, my dear,” urged Emelius. “We can discuss the ethics of the situation at another time.”
Emelius, Miss Price, and the children reached the bed without encountering any interference. Emelius seated himself comfortably on the right side and looked at the Star of Astoroth, which he held clutched in his head.
“The magic words?” said Miss Price eagerly.
“ ‘Treguna! Mekoides! Trecorum! Satis Dee!’ “ read Emelius.
“Hey!” said Paul. “That’s it! That’s---”
A roar that shook the palm trees smothered Paul’s voice.
“I fear His Majesty has discovered the deception,” said Emelius.
The children and Miss Price leaped onto the bed. “The knob, Paul!” cried Miss Price. “Hurry!”
But Paul was struggling with his pocket. “It’s stuck! I can’t get it out!”
Leonidus, raging like the lion that s, burst from the edge of the palm grove and raced toward them.
“Dear me!” said Miss Price. “I suppose I should do something!”
“Yes, do!” pleaded Emelius.
Miss Price had time to get only halfway through her favorite spell before the lion leaped, his claws unsheathed.
In midair, the lion became a rabbit--a rabbit with a lion’s tail.
“Bother!” snapped Miss Price. “How I hate sloppy work!”
The rabbit fled, its crown uncomfortably encircling its middle like a tight girdle.
“Here!” Paul, at last, hauled the knob from his pocket and fitted it to the bed.
Emelius Browne, an expert at the gypsy switch, folded the Star of Astoroth carefully into his handkerchief and put it in his pocket. “I’ll keep this,” he announced. “Women are always losing things.”
“Pepperidge Eye, Paul,” ordered Miss Price.
“Yes, mum,” said Paul, and he gave his bedknob three brisk raps.
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