K

is for King. He has a private Key to the park, and when the Kingdom does not need him, he comes to fly his Kite. It is made of a Kitchen tablecloth and trimmed with Kid and Kapok.

Today the Kite gets caught in his robes.

“Here’s a pretty Kettle of fish.” says the King. “I should have worn my Kilt.”

Michael Kowtows respectfully.

“Keep the string tight, your Majesty. It must not have a single Kink. Tie it to the Knob of your crown. Kick with your feet, and run.”

The King gives him a Keen glance. “What Kind advice,” he says. “You shall have a Kangaroo for a Keepsake. Are you Keeping well. Miss Poppins? I would like to invite you all to the Kiosk for a snack of Kippers and Kidney beans and perhaps a few nut Kernels. But, alas, I simply haven’t a Kopeck. Well, well. I must be off. There is Kedgeree for lunch today, and the thought of it Kindles my appetite.”

And away he sails, like a ship on its Keel, with his robes trailing along the Kerb and the Kite flying behind him.