The King was caught in the palace pantry at midnight with a chicken leg in one hand and a fork halfway into a game pie.

Mrs Pritchard, head of the royal household, was doing her final rounds when she heard a plate scrape. She switched on the light to find His Majesty in his slippers, eating straight from the pie dish.

“I was checking whether it would serve twelve,” said the King.

“It did at half past eleven, sir.”

A matter of crust

The game pie had been set aside for a luncheon the following day. Mrs Pritchard had even left a note on it saying Do not cut. His Majesty pointed out that he’d used a fork.

“Yes, sir. I can see where you’ve tunnelled in.”

A tabby cat sat beside the King’s slipper, watching the chicken leg.

“The cat woke me,” said His Majesty.

“And did she fetch you a fork, sir?”

The King looked down. The cat had already left.

The palace response

Mrs Pritchard sent the King to finish his chicken leg at the kitchen table, then turned the pie dish around so the missing corner faced the wall.

At lunch the following day, a guest asked for seconds. Mrs Pritchard looked directly at the King.

“I believe His Majesty’s already had yours.”