I got it out and slipped it into my scrip, and just then here came a couple of knights.

The king stood, stately as a statue, gazing toward them--had forgotten himself again, of course--and before I could get a word of warning out, it was time for him to skip, and well that he did it, too.

He supposed they would turn aside.

Turn aside to avoid trampling peasant dirt under foot?
When had he ever turned aside himself--or ever had the chance to do it, if a peasant saw him or any other noble knight in time to judiciously save him the trouble?
The knights paid no attention to the king at all; it was his place to look out himself, and if he hadn't skipped he would have been placidly ridden down, and laughed at besides.
The king was in a flaming fury, and launched out his challenge and epithets with a most royal vigor.

The knights were some little distance by now.