Well! You can imagine how lonely the Queen was. Sometimes the Prime Minister would shuffle cautiously to the throne and pat her hand kindly. Sometimes the little page who filled the inkwells would raise his eyes and smile at her from behind the King's back. But neither the old man nor the boy could spare much time to amuse the Queen, for fear of losing their heads.
You must not think the King meant to be unkind. Indeed, it seemed to him that his subjects were luckier than most, for hadn't they a King who knew practically everything? But while he was busy gathering knowledge his people grew poorer and poorer. Houses fell into ruin and fields went untilled, because the King needed all the men to help him in his thinking.
At last there came a day when the King and the courtiers were busy, as usual, at their desks in the Council Chamber. The Queen sat listening to the scratching of pens and the squeaking of mice in the wainscot. And presently, as she sat so still, a bold mouse streaked across the floor and began to wash its whiskers right under the throne. The Queen gave a little frightened gasp. But she quickly clapped her hand to her mouth for fear of disturbing the King. Then she pulled her ermine train about her and sat trembling within it. And at that moment, over the edge of her hand, her startled eyes glanced across the room and saw on the threshold — a cat.
A small cat it was, as fluffy as a dandelion, and white as sugar from tail to whisker. It walked with a lazy swinging step as though it had nothing at all to do and all time to do it in. A pair of green eyes glowed in its head as it sauntered through the door.
For a moment it paused at the carpet's edge, glancing curiously at the King and the courtiers as they bent above their books. Then the green eyes turned towards the Queen. The Cat gave a start and its body stiffened. Up went its back like the hump of a camel. Its whiskers stretched into threads of steel. Then it leapt across the Council Chamber and dived beneath the throne. There was a hoarse cat-cry. And a smothered squeak. And the mouse was there no longer.
"Silence, please! Don't make such extraordinary noises, my dear! They interrupt my thoughts!" said the King fractiously.
"It wasn't me," said the Queen timidly. "It was a Cat."
"Cats?" said the King absent-mindedly, without even lifting his head. "Cats are four-footed creatures covered with fur. They eat mice, fish, liver and birds and communicate either in a purr or a caterwaul. They keep themselves to themselves and are popularly supposed to possess nine lives. For further information on Cats, see Page Two, Volume Seven, Shelf D in Library Number Five to the left as you go in the door. Here! Hi! What's all this—?"
With a start the King looked up from his page. For the Cat was sitting on the desk before him.
"Kindly be careful!" the King said crossly. "You're right on my latest facts. They deal with a very important question. Do turkeys really come from Tlirkey and if not, why? Well, what do you want? Speak up! Don't mumble."
"I want to have a look at you," the Cat said calmly.
"Oho! You do, do you? Well, a Cat may look at a King, they say! And I've no objection. Go ahead!"
The King leaned backwards in his chair and turned his face from left to right so the Cat could see both sides.
The Cat gazed thoughtfully at the King.
There was a long pause.
The Cat was sitting on the desk before him
"Well?" said the King, with a tolerant smile. "And what do you think of me, may I ask?"
"Not much," said the Cat casually, licking its right front paw.
"What?" cried the King. "Not much, indeed! My poor ignorant animal, you are evidently not aware which King you are looking at!"
"All kings are pretty much alike," said the Cat.
"Nothing of the kind," the King said angrily. "I defy you to name a single king that knows as much as I do. Why, professors come from the ends of the earth to consult with me for half an hour. My court is composed of the Very Best People. Jack-the-Giant-Killer digs my garden. My flocks are tended by no less a person than Bo-Peep. And all my pies contain Four-and-Twenty Blackbirds. Not much to look at, forsooth! And who are you, I'd like to know, to speak to a King like that!"
"Oh, just a cat," the Cat replied. "Four legs and a tail and a couple of whiskers."
"I can see that for myself!" snapped the King. "It doesn't matter to me what you look like. What I care about is, how much do you know?"
"Oh, everything," the Cat said calmly, as it licked the tip of its tail.
"What!" The King burst out with an angry splutter. "Well, of all the vain, conceited creatures! I've a jolly good mind to chop off your head."
"So you shall," said the Cat. "But all in good time."
"Everything! Why, you preposterous animal! There's no one alive — not even myself — who could be as wise as that!"
"With the single exception of cats," said the Cat. "All cats, I assure you, know everything!"
"Very well," growled the King. "But you've got to prove it. If you're so clever I shall ask you three questions. And then we shall see what we'll see."
He smiled a supercilious smile. If the wretched Cat insisted on boasting, it would have to take the consequences!
"Now," he said, leaning back in his chair and putting his fingers together. "My first question is—"
"One moment, please!" the Cat said calmly. "I cannot undertake to answer your questions until we have settled the terms. No cat would do anything so foolish. I am prepared to make a bargain with you. And these are my conditions. It is agreed between us that you shall ask me three questions. After that, it is only fair that I should question you. And whichever one of us wins the contest shall have command of your kingdom."
The courtiers dropped their pens in surprise. The King's eyes goggled with astonishment.
But he swallowed the words that sprang to his mouth and gave a disdainful laugh.
"Very well," he said haughtily. "It's a great waste of time and you, not I, will be the one to regret it. But I accept your bargain."
"Then take off your crown," commanded the Cat, "and lay it on the table between us."
The King tore the crown from his tattered head and the jewels flashed in the sunlight.
"Let's get this nonsense over and done with! I have to go on with my work," he said crossly. "Are you ready? Well, here is my first question. If you laid them carefully, end to end, how many six-foot men would it take to go right round the Equator?"
"That's easy," the Cat replied, with a smile. "You simply divide the length by six."
"Aha!" cried the King with a crafty look. "That's all very well — but what is the length?"
"Any length you like," the Cat said airily. "It doesn't really exist, you know. The Equator is purely an imaginary line."
The King's face darkened with disapproval.
"Well," he said sulkily, "tell me this. What is the difference between an Elephant and a Railway Porter?"
"No difference at all," said the Cat at once. "Because they both carry trunks."
"But — but — but — but—" the King protested. "These are not the answers I expected. You really must try to be more serious."
"I can't help what you expected," said the Cat. "These are the proper replies to your questions, as any cat will tell you."
The King made an angry click with his tongue.
"This nonsense is getting beyond a joke! It's a farce! It's nothing but twiddle-twaddle. Well, here is my third question — ijvou can answer it."
You could see by the smile on the King's face that this time he thought he had the Cat exactly where he wanted it.