"Let the fireworks begin," said the King; and the Royal
Pyrotechnist made a low bow, and marched down to the end of the
garden. He had six attendants with him, each of whom carried a
lighted torch at the end of a long pole.

It was certainly a magnificent display.

Whizz! Whizz! went the Catherine Wheel, as she spun round and
round. Boom! Boom! went the Roman Candle. Then the Squibs danced
all over the place, and the Bengal Lights made everything look
scarlet. "Good-bye," cried the Fire-balloon, as he soared away,
dropping tiny blue sparks. Bang! Bang! answered the Crackers, who
were enjoying themselves immensely. Every one was a great success
except the Remarkable Rocket. He was so damp with crying that he
could not go off at all. The best thing in him was the gunpowder,
and that was so wet with tears that it was of no use. All his poor
relations, to whom he would never speak, except with a sneer, shot
up into the sky like wonderful golden flowers with blossoms of
fire. Huzza! Huzza! cried the Court; and the little Princess
laughed with pleasure.

"I suppose they are reserving me for some grand occasion," said the
Rocket; "no doubt that is what it means," and he looked more
supercilious than ever.

The next day the workmen came to put everything tidy. "This is
evidently a deputation," said the Rocket; "I will receive them with
becoming dignity" so he put his nose in the air, and began to frown
severely as if he were thinking about some very important subject.