that the Musqueteers hold in possession
  At the top of the hall;

             While the visitors all
  Are crowded to death, though the place is not small,

           But from wall unto wall

             Crammed with short folks and tall,

  Who, as chances befall,

             And in various degrees
             They suffer the squeeze,

  bawl, brawl, haul, maul, squall, call, fall, crawl, and sprawl

             The King's looking pleasant,

  Expecting a present—

  Say knives, forks, and spoons that cost many a bezant—

   For his daughter and heiress
   From each of the fairies;

   (A fay for a sponsor in these days quite rare is!)

                But fairies, we' know,

               Have gifts to bestow
   More precious than silver and gold ones—and so
   One gives the babe beauty,

   Another gives health,

   This a strong sense of duty,

   That plenty of wealth.

   Five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten
   Add their presents, but when
   Eleven have endowed her, the last of the dozen
   Says, "I really don't know what to give her, dear cousin
   (Addressing the Queen,)

            "But the courses between
   I shall hit upon something. I will not be mean;
   So pray take your seats, for I'm not such a sinner
   As, while I am thinking, to keep you from dinner!"

   The King has taken the highest place,

   Beside him the Queen in her diamonds and lace.

              Each fairy godmother
              Sits down by another,

   And my lord the Archbishop is just saying grace,

   When in comes a cook, with a very white face,

   Who cries, as he straight up the hall rushes nimbly,

   "Please your Majesty, somebody's fell down the chimbley!

   There's silence in the hall
   For half a minute,

   And not a word doth fall
   From those within it;

          When, lo!—No!—And yet it is so!

               The sound of a foot comes heavy and slow
               Up the staircase from down below;

                      And a figure ill-grown,

                      Unattended, alone,

      Walks straight through the guests to the foot of the throne,
                     And then with a squeak
                     Rising into a shriek,

      And eyes that with fury are terribly glistening,

      Cries, "Pray, sir, why was not I asked to the christening?"

                      'T was old Fairy Spite,

                    Whom they did not invite,

          Because of her manners, which were not polite.

                     She led a bad life,

                      Was addicted to strife,

           And besides—worst of all—she ate peas with a knife!
                      But 'twas really no joke
                      Her wrath to provoke.

          So in hopes to appease her His Majesty spoke,

                       And said, sore affrighted,

                      "They both were delighted
                      To see her that day—

                      Quite charmed—in fact, they
                Couldn't think how it was she had not been