Under these circumstances, it is not to be wondered at that a close
      intimacy arose between the two little captives. Indeed, they soon became
      sworn friends. Hop-Frog, who, although he made a great deal of sport, was
      by no means popular, had it not in his power to render Trippetta many
      services; but she, on account of her grace and exquisite beauty (although
      a dwarf), was universally admired and petted; so she possessed much
      influence; and never failed to use it, whenever she could, for the benefit
      of Hop-Frog. On some grand state occasion—I forgot what—the king determined
      to have a masquerade, and whenever a masquerade or any thing of that kind,
      occurred at our court, then the talents, both of Hop-Frog and Trippetta
      were sure to be called into play. Hop-Frog, in especial, was so inventive
      in the way of getting up pageants, suggesting novel characters, and
      arranging costumes, for masked balls, that nothing could be done, it
      seems, without his assistance. The night appointed for the fete had arrived. A gorgeous hall had been
      fitted up, under Trippetta’s eye, with every kind of device which could
      possibly give eclat to a masquerade. The whole court was in a fever of
      expectation. As for costumes and characters, it might well be supposed
      that everybody had come to a decision on such points. Many had made up
      their minds (as to what roles they should assume) a week, or even a month,
      in advance; and, in fact, there was not a particle of indecision anywhere—except
      in the case of the king and his seven minsters. Why they hesitated I never
      could tell, unless they did it by way of a joke. More probably, they found
      it difficult, on account of being so fat, to make up their minds. At all
      events, time flew; and, as a last resort they sent for Trippetta and
      Hop-Frog. When the two little friends obeyed the summons of the king they found him
      sitting at his wine with the seven members of his cabinet council; but the
      monarch appeared to be in a very ill humor. He knew that Hop-Frog was not
      fond of wine, for it excited the poor cripple almost to madness; and
      madness is no comfortable feeling. But the king loved his practical jokes,
      and took pleasure in forcing Hop-Frog to drink and (as the king called it)
      “to be merry.”

      “Come here, Hop-Frog,” said he, as the jester and his friend entered the
      room; “swallow this bumper to the health of your absent friends, [here
      Hop-Frog sighed,] and then let us have the benefit of your invention. We
      want characters—characters, man—something novel—out of
      the way. We are wearied with this everlasting sameness. Come, drink! the
      wine will brighten your wits.”


      Hop-Frog endeavored, as usual, to get up a jest in reply to these advances
      from the king; but the effort was too much. It happened to be the poor
      dwarf’s birthday, and the command to drink to his “absent friends” forced
      the tears to his eyes. Many large, bitter drops fell into the goblet as he
      took it, humbly, from the hand of the tyrant. “Ah! ha! ha! ha!” roared the latter, as the dwarf reluctantly
      drained the beaker. “See what a glass of good wine can do! Why,
      your eyes are shining already!”


      Poor fellow! his large eyes gleamed, rather than shone; for the effect of
      wine on his excitable brain was not more powerful than instantaneous. He
      placed the goblet nervously on the table, and looked round upon the
      company with a half-insane stare. They all seemed highly amused at
      the success of the king’s ‘joke.’

      “And now to business,” said the prime minister, a very fat man. “Yes,” said the King; “Come, Hop-Frog, lend us your
      assistance. Characters, my fine fellow; we stand in need of
      characters—all of us—ha! ha! ha!” and as this was
      seriously meant for a joke, his laugh was chorused by the seven. Hop-Frog also laughed, although feebly and somewhat vacantly. “Come, come,” said the king, impatiently, “have you nothing to suggest?”


      “I am endeavoring to think of something novel,” replied the dwarf,
      abstractedly, for he was quite bewildered by the wine. “Endeavoring!” cried the tyrant, fiercely; “what do you
      mean by _that?_ Ah, I perceive. You are sulky, and want more wine. Here, drink this!” and he poured out another goblet full and
      offered it to the cripple, who merely gazed at it, gasping for breath. “Drink, I say!” shouted the monster, “or by the
      fiends—”


      The dwarf hesitated. The king grew purple with rage. The courtiers
      smirked. Trippetta, pale as a corpse, advanced to the monarch’s seat, and,
      falling on her knees before him, implored him to spare her friend. The tyrant regarded her, for some moments, in evident wonder at her
      audacity. He seemed quite at a loss what to do or say—how most
      becomingly to express his indignation. At last, without uttering a
      syllable, he pushed her violently from him, and threw the contents of the
      brimming goblet in her face. The poor girl got up the best she could, and, not daring even to sigh,
      resumed her position at the foot of the table. There was a dead silence for about half a minute, during which the falling
      of a leaf, or of a feather, might have been heard. It was interrupted by a
      low, but harsh and protracted grating sound which seemed to come at once
      from every corner of the room. “What—what—what are you making that noise for?” demanded the
      king, turning furiously to the dwarf. The latter seemed to have recovered, in great measure, from his
      intoxication, and looking fixedly but quietly into the tyrant’s face,
      merely ejaculated:

      “I—I? How could it have been me?”


      “The sound appeared to come from without,” observed one of the courtiers. “I fancy it was the parrot at the window, whetting his bill upon his
      cage-wires.”


      “True,” replied the monarch, as if much relieved by the suggestion; “but,
      on the honor of a knight, I could have sworn that it was the gritting of
      this vagabond’s teeth.”


      Hereupon the dwarf laughed (the king was too confirmed a joker to object
      to any one’s laughing), and displayed a set of large, powerful, and very
      repulsive teeth. Moreover, he avowed his perfect willingness to swallow as
      much wine as desired. The monarch was pacified; and having drained another
      bumper with no very perceptible ill effect, Hop-Frog entered at once, and
      with spirit, into the plans for the masquerade.