The Prince and the Pauper Page #5

Why not, pray?

You see, in Offal Court, a prince is...

kind of like Saint Nicholas.

You hear about him,

but you never see him...

because you couldn't expect him

to come to see poor people.

The Prince of Offal Court.

It would be amusing to see their faces.

They'll believe you because when you

arrive, you shall be wearing my clothes.

- Sword and all.

- Your clothes?

Why not? Clothes make the prince.

Are there any vermin in this?

So few you'll hardly notice them at all,

Your Highness.

You go wash your face. Over there.

Use the towel.

Penny, please. Please give me a penny.

Don't bother me, my lad.

Why, you look like me.

On the contrary, you look like me.

That's what I said, Your Highness.

We look alike.

- Do you know any games, boy?

- Yes, Your Highness, lots of them:

- Duck and drake, robber and constable.

- How do you play that?

It takes three to play it: A robber,

somebody to be robbed, and a constable.

You see, I rob you of something, hide it.

Then you tell the constable,

and he and you try to find it.

While you're looking for it, I hide.

Then you and he have to find me

to make the arrest, just as in real life.

- Good. I like that. We'll play it.

- But we have no constable.

I'll get my dog.

He'll be a marvelous constable.

He can find anybody

no matter where they hide.

Wait here. I'll get him.

- There he goes, running for it.

- After him.

If he gets away, you'll sweat for it.

Not so fast, me lad.

- Captain wants to pay his respects to you.

- Are you mad?

Do you want to lose your heads?

How dare you touch me!

Listen to that.

The Prince must have knighted him.

Now for your lesson,

you filthy little beggar.

Beggar? Are you insane?

I'm Prince Edward!

Make way for His Royal Highness,

the Prince of Pewy.

I'll have your blood for this,

and on my own sword.

Come back whenever you like. The Guard

prides itself on entertaining royalty.

Why wasn't His Highness

prepared for bed last night?

Because, Your Grace, he didn't ring.

Your Highness.

Where's the Prince?

The Prince?

Yes, the Prince.

Where is he?

But, Your Highness, you are the Prince.

Please, milords, I'm not the Prince.

He went out to get a constable.

I mean, his dog.

And he didn't come back.

I'm a beggar boy.

Don't behead me. Say you won't.

This is not the time for jesting,

Your Highness.

Indeed, it isn't, because I'm in a pickle.

It's all so muddled. The Prince will

have my head because I have his clothes.

If the King finds out,

he'll have me boiled in oil.

The Prince isn't here right now,

but I'm sure he'll come back.

Please, Your Highness,

discontinue this whimsy at our expense.

That's just it. I'm not your highness.

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