The Queen Who Flew. Ford Ford Madox

I'll bring you the meat and the flannel to-morrow, and then you'll tell me, won't you?"

      The bat said, "We'll see about it," and so the Queen arose from her seat, and, stooping to avoid the roses that caught at her, went out towards the palace and up the marble steps into it.

      The palace was an enormous hall, all of marble, and very, very cold.

      The dining-room itself was a vast hall, as long as an ordinary street, with a table as long and as broad as the roadway thereof, so that the poor little Queen felt rather lonely, sitting at one end of it, with the enormous vessels all of gold, and the great gold candlesticks, and the long line of deaf and dumb domestics that stood and looked on, or presented their dishes kneeling.

      Generally the Regent's wife, or, if he hadn't one, his sister or mother, acted as the Queen's governess, and stood behind her chair. But that evening there was no one at all.

      "I suppose they've cut her head off," the Queen said resignedly. "I wonder what the next one will be like. But I shan't be bothered with her long, if the bat tells me how to fly. I shall just go right off somewhere, and see mountains, and valleys, and rivers, and seas; and hundreds and hundreds of wonderful things out of books. Oh, it will be lovely! And as to the Regents, they can just cut each other's heads off as much as they like."

      And so, having dined, she went to bed, and lay a long time awake thinking how delightful it would be to fly.

      The next morning, at breakfast, she found a note to say that the Lord Blackjowl desired an early audience with her on the subject of the Regency.

      "I suppose I must go," the Queen said. "I do hope he won't be much wounded, it's so nasty to look at, and I did want to go into the garden to see the bat."

      However, she went down into the audience chamber at once, to get it over. The guard drew back the curtain in the doorway and she went in. A great man with a black beard was awaiting her, and at her entrance sank down on one knee.

      "Oh, get up, please," she said. "I don't like talking to men when they kneel, it looks so stupid. What is it you want? I suppose it's about the Regency."

      The Lord Blackjowl arose. His eyes were little and sharp; they seemed to look right through the Queen.

      "Your Majesty is correct, as so peerless a lady must be," he said "The nobles and people were groaning under the yoke of the late traitor and tyrant who called himself Regent, and so we took the liberty, the great liberty, of – "

      "Oh yes, I know what you want," the Queen interrupted him. "You want to be pardoned for the unconstitutionality of it. So I suppose I shall have to pardon you. If you give me the paper I'll sign it."

      The Lord Blackjowl handed her one of many papers that he held in his hand.

      "If your Majesty will be graciously pleased to sign it here."

      So the Queen sat down at a table and signed the crackling paper "Eldrida – Queen."

      "I never sign it 'Eldrida R.,'" she said. "It's ridiculous to sign it in a language that isn't one's own. Now I suppose you want me to sign a paper appointing you Regent?"

      The Lord Blackjowl looked at her from under his shaggy eyebrows.

      "That was included in the paper your Majesty has been graciously pleased to sign."

      "But I didn't know anything about it," the Queen said hotly. "Now that's deceiving, and I shall never be able to trust anything you give me to sign without reading it. I've a good mind to take it back again."

      "I assure your Majesty," the lord answered, with a low bow, "I merely wished to save your Majesty the trouble of twice appending your gracious signature when once would suffice."

      "But why didn't you tell me what was in it?" she asked, a little mollified.

      "Merely because your Majesty took the words out of my mouth, if I may so say."

      The Queen said, "Well, and what else do you want me to do?"

      "There are sundry traitorous persons of the faction of the late Regent, whose existence is dangerous to the peace of the realm, and against whom I wish to issue writs of attainder if your Majesty will consent."

      "Yes, I thought so," the Queen said. "How many are there?"

      "Three thousand nine hundred and forty," the Regent said, looking at a great scroll.

      "Good gracious!" the Queen said. "Why, that's five times as many as ever there were before."

      The Regent stroked his beard "There is a great deal of disaffection in the land," he said.

      "Why, the last Regent said the people were ever so contented," the Queen answered.

      "The last Regent has deceived your Majesty."

      "That's what they all say about the last Regent. Why, it was only the other day that he told me that you were deceitful – and you are– and he said that you had thrown your wife into a yard full of hungry dogs, in order that you might marry me."

      "Your Majesty," the Regent said, flushing with heavy anger, "the late Regent was a tyrant, and all tyrants are untruthful, as your Majesty's wisdom must tell you. My wife had the misfortune to fall into a bear-pit, and, as for my daring to raise my eyes as high as your Majesty – "

      "Why, you're looking at me now," the Queen said. "However, it doesn't matter. You can't marry me till I'm twenty-one, and I shan't be that for some time. By-the-by, who's going to be my next governess?"

      "Your Majesty is now of an age to need no governess. I think a tutor would be more suitable – with your Majesty's consent."

      "Well, who's to be my tutor, then?" the Queen said.

      "I had purposed according that inestimable honour to myself," the Regent answered.

      "Oh, I say! You'll never do!" the Queen remarked. "You could never darn a pair of stockings, or comb my hair. You'd be so awfully clumsy."

      "Your Majesty has no need to have your royal stockings darned; you can always have a new pair."

      "But that would be so fearfully wasteful!" the Queen said.

      "Your Majesty might give the other pairs to the poor."

      "But what are 'the poor'?"

      "The poor are wicked, idle people – too wicked to work and earn the money, and too dirty to wear stockings," the Regent said.

      "But what would be the good of my stockings to them?" the Queen asked.

      "It is the usual thing, your Majesty," the Regent said. "But will your Majesty be pleased to sign these papers?"

      The Queen said, "Oh yes, I'll sign them, if you'll just go down into the kitchen and ask for a piece of raw meat, about the size of my hand, and a piece of red flannel about large enough to go round a bat. Oh, and what's a good thing for rheumatism?"

      The Regent looked a little surprised. "I – your Majesty, I really don't exactly know."

      "Oh, well, ask the cook or somebody."

      "Well, but – couldn't I send a servant, your Majesty?" the Regent said.

      "No, that wouldn't be any good," the Queen said. "If you're to take the place of my governess you'll have to do that sort of thing, you know."

      The Regent bowed. "Of course I shall be only too grateful for your Majesty's commands. I merely thought that your Majesty might need some assistance in signing the papers."

      But the Queen answered, "Oh no, I can manage that sort of thing well enough myself. I'm quite used to it; so be quick, and remember, a nice juicy piece of raw meat and some red flannel, and – oh, opodeldoc; that's just the thing. Be quick! I don't want to keep the bat waiting."

      The Regent went backwards out of the room, bowing at every three steps, and, as he was clad in armour from top to toe, he made a clanking noise – quite like a tinker's cart, if you've ever beard one.

      So, left to herself, the Queen signed the papers one after the other. They all began —

"By THE QUEEN, A PROCLAMATION, E.R

      "Whereas by our