The King Who Went on Strike

Synopsis

The King leant against the stone balustrade, which runs round the roof of Buckingham Palace, and looked about him. All around him, above him, and below him, the night was ablaze with a myriad lights. Loyal Londoners, in accordance with their custom, were closing their Coronation celebrations with illuminations, with fireworks, and with good-humoured horse-play in the crowded streets.

In spite of gloomy predictions to the contrary, the proverbial Coronation weather of the last day or two had not failed. A radiant June day had given place to a wonderful June night. Here, on the palace roof, high up above the tumult and the shouting the night air was cool and fragrant. The King rested his elbows on the broad top of the carved stone balustrade. He was very weary. 

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