I supposed from this that Priscilla had been standing up before, and that our old friend had been appointed to the office of chair-back-holder to the usurper.
Priscilla waved her fan high in air, and then, with her right hand, she took off the crown, held it up for a minute, and replaced it on her head.
"Afrikins, behole yer queen!" said she, at the top of her voice, and leaning back so far that the rightful sovereign had a good deal of trouble to keep the chair from going over.
"Dat's me!" she cried.

"Look straight at me, an' ye see yer queen.

An' how you dar', you misribble Hop-grog, to say I no queen! You 'serve to be killed.

Take hole o' him, some uv you fellers! Grab dat Hop-grog!" At this, two or three men seized the poor _Hof-rath_, while the crowd cheered and laughed.
"Take him an' kill him!" shouted Priscilla.

"Chop his head off!" At this, a wild shout of laughter arose, and one of the men who held the _Hof-rath_ declared, as soon as he got his breath, that they couldn't do that,--they had no hatchet big enough.
Priscilla stood quiet for a minute.