Was it a ... tie?

Humpty did get very many presents. He was a lonely sort of egg, with no one to sit with. And egg in that situation cannot expect a gift to come his way every afternoon. However, on Humpty’s seventh birthday, which was an ancient age for an egg, he did receive a present.

The present was from the White King and White Queen, and it came in a lovely, green box with a silver ribbon. Humpty felt much honored, to say the least, as he looked at his package. With all of the difficulties that the White Kingdom was experiencing with the Red Kingdom, a lowly subject could not expect a present, even on his birthday. Yet, here one was, sitting on Humpty’s nearly nonexistent legs.

Humpty trembled as he pulled the ribbon and opened the box. From time to time he was forced to steady himself, least he should fall. It was his worst fear to fall, and the terror was certainly no less diminished by the kind promise the King had made. The promise was that, should Humpty fall, he would be picked up by all of the King’s own horses and men. This was certainly not a comfort, because Humpty knew that they would never be able to put him back together again.

Brushing away morose thoughts, Humpty removed his present. He looked long and hard at it. It was a circlet of silk, very expensive, very elegant, and very difficult to understand. Humpty lifted it into the light.

“Is it a tie?” he asked himself, holding it up to his neck, which also happened to be his waste. “No, no, no! It’s a belt! Yes, I see that now! Why, and it’s a lovely belt, to be sure! To be sure, it’s a belt befitting of a wizened egg like myself!” He stopped his reverie to inspect his present further.

“Then again…” he sighed, “Then again, it may be a scarf. It would be a very new-fangled scarf; that it would. However, I suspect that such fashions do tend to spring up in the courts of kings. Fashion isn’t something that I should be expected to be a master of; after all, it changes so of’en! Yet, I will proudly wear this scarf around my neck!” Humpty began to put the scarf on. He stopped mid-motion, though, as a thought struck him.

“This may not be a scarf!” he said, “In fact, it might not be any sort of scarf at all! And what will I say to the King and Queen when I thank them? I cannot thank them for a scarf if they sent me a belt or a tie. They would find me very foolish and inexperienced in the world. They might even take offence and order my execution. I should have my head cut off at the neck, but that may prove to be a difficult task.”
Humpty sighed dramatically. He so hated a dilemma. Dilemmas always brought his mind to morbid subjects, usually ones pertaining to his demise. He was just wondering if the King would have him shoved from his wall in a fit of rage, when he spotted a note. It read:

Dear Mr. Humpty Dumpty,
Happy seventh birthday! It is a privilege to have you as one of our subjects loyal or loyal subjects, which both mean the same. We hope that you like the cravat that we have picked for you. It is the latest style from the portmanteau in the attic, or, at least, it was, several years ago –when the portmanteau was placed in the attic. Good day.
The King and Queen

“Cravat, eh?” Humpty mused, “Why of course it is! I knew so all along! Only a fool could think differently on the subject.”
Humpty fastened his cravat and smiled. What a clever old egg he was!