He held up a pompous hand and began.
"If a dozen men, working eight hours a day, had to dig a hole ten-and-a-half miles deep — how long would it be, including Sundays, before they put down their spades?"
The King's eyes shone with a cunning sparkle. He gazed at the Cat with a look of triumph. But the Cat had its answer ready.
"Two seconds," it said quickly, with a little flick of its tail.
"Two seconds! Are you mad? The answer's in years!" The King rubbed his hands together with glee at the thought of the Cat's mistake.
"I repeat," said the Cat. "It would take them two seconds. To dig such a hole would be utterly foolish. 'Ten miles deep?' they would say. 'Why, what on earth for?'"
"That isn't the point," the King said angrily.
"But every question must have a point. A point is exactly what questions are for. And now," said the Cat, "it's my turn, I believe!"
The King gave an angry shrug of his shoulders.
"Well, be quick. You've wasted enough of my time!"
"My questions are short and very simple," the Cat assured him. "A cat could solve them in a flick of the whisker. Let us hope that a King will be equally clever. Now, here is my first. How high is the sky?"
The King gave a grunt of satisfaction. This was exactly the kind of question he liked, and he smiled a knowing smile.
"Well, of course," he began, "it all depends. If you measured it from a level plain it would be one height. From the top of a mountain another. And after taking this into account, we should have to determine the latitude and longitude, the amplitude, magnitude and multitude, not forgetting the atmospherics, mathematics, acrobatics and hysterics; and the general depressions, expressions, impressions and confessions, together with—"
"Excuse me," interrupted the Cat. "But that is not the answer. TVy again, please. How high is the sky?"
The King's eyes popped with angry astonishment. Nobody had ever dared to interrupt him before.
"The sky," he bellowed, "is — er — it's—. Well, of course I can't tell you in so many yards. Neither could anyone else, I assure you. It is probably—"
"I want an exact reply," said the Cat. He glanced from the King to the gaping courtiers. "Has anyone here, in this hall of learning, the answer to my question?"
Nervously glancing at the King, the Prime Minister raised a trembling hand.
"I have always supposed," he murmured shyly, "that the sky was just a little higher than the Eagle flies. I'm an old man, of course, and I'm probably wrong—"
The Cat clapped its sugar-white paws together.
"No! No! You are right," it protested gently.
The King gave a sullen snort of rage.
"Tomfoolery! Nonsensical bosh!"
The Cat held up its paw for silence. "Will you answer my second question, please! Where is the sweetest milk to be found?"
Immediately the King's face cleared, and took on a confident smirk.
"As simple as A.B.C.," he said loftily. "The answer, of course, is Sardinia. For there the cows live on honey and roses and their milk is as sweet as Golden Syrup. Or perhaps I should say the Elegant Islands, where they feed upon nothing but sugar cane. Or Greece, where they browse in the Candytuft. Now, taking into consideration—"
"I can take nothing into consideration," said the Cat, "except the fact that you have not answered my question. Where is the sweetest milk, O King?"
"I know!" cried the little Page, pausing for a moment above a half-filled inkwell. "In a saucer by the fire."
The Cat gave the child an approving nod and yawned in the face of the King.
"I thought you were so clever!" it said slyly. "You may indeed be the wisest of Kings — but somebody else has answered my question. Do not frown, however—" for the King was glowering at the Page—"you still have one more chance to win. Here is my third question. What is the strongest thing in the world?"
The King's eyes glittered. This time he was certain he had the right answer.
"The Tiger," he said thoughtfully, "is a very strong thing. So also are the Horse and the Lion. Then, of course, there are the tides of the sea. And the granite veins of the mountains. Volcanoes, too, have a mighty strength and the snowy caps of ice at the Poles. Or, again, it might be the Wall of China—"
"Or again it might not!" the Cat broke in. "Can anyone tell me the strongest thing?"
It glanced once more round the Council Chamber. And this time it was the Queen who spoke.
"I think," she said gently, "it must be Patience. For, in the long run, it is Patience that overcomes all things."
The green eyes dwelt gravely upon her for a moment.
"It is indeed," the Cat agreed quietly. And turning, it laid a paw on the crown.
"Oh, wisest of monarchs!" cried the Cat. "You are, without doubt, a mighty scholar and I am a common-or-garden cat. But I have answered all three of your questions and you have not answered one of mine. The result of the contest is clear, I think. The crown belongs to me."
The King gave a short contemptuous laugh.
"Don't be so silly! What would you do with it? You can't make laws and rule the people. You don't even know how to read or write. TYirn over my kingdom to a Cat? I'm hanged if I will!"
The Cat smiled broadly.
"I see that your wisdom does not include a knowledge of fairy-tales. If it did, you would know that it is only necessary to cut off a cat's head to discover a Prince in disguise."
"Fairy-tales? Pooh! They're nothing to me. I'm thinking about my kingdom."
"Your kingdom," said the Cat, "if you'll forgive me mentioning it, is no longer your affair. All that need concern you now is quickly to cut off my head. The rest you may leave to me. Furthermore, since you apparently have no use for them, I shall take into my service this wise man, your Prime Minister, this understanding woman, your wife, and this sensible child, your page. Let them get their hats and come with me and together we four shall rule the kingdom."
"But what's going to happen to we?" cried the King. "Where shall I go? How shall I live?"
The Cat's eyes narrowed sternly.
"You should have thought of that before. Most people think twice before making a bargain with a Cat. Well, out with your sword now, learned man! And I trust the blade is sharp."
"Stop!" cried the Prime Minister, as he laid his hand on the hilt of the King's sword. Then he turned to the Cat and bowed respectfully.
"Sir," he said quietly, "listen to me! It is true that you have won the crown, in fair and equal contest. And it may be you are indeed a Prince. But I must decline your offer. I have served the King faithfully since the days when I was a page in his father's court. And whether he be crowned or uncrowned, head of a kingdom or a tramp on the lonely roads, I love him and he needs me. I will not go with you."
"Nor I," said the Queen, as she rose from her golden throne. "I have stood at the King's side since he was young and comely. I have waited for him in silence through long, lonely years. Whether he be wise or foolish, rich or without bread, I love him and I need him. I will not go with you."
"Nor I," said the little Page, as he corked up his bottle of ink. "This is the only home I have ever known. And the King is my king and I am sorry for him. Besides, I like filling up the inkwells. I will not go with you."
At that the Cat smiled a curious smile and its green eyes shone on the three who had refused him.
"What have you to say to this, O King?" said the Cat as it turned to the desk.
But no words came to answer the question. For the King was weeping.
"O wise man, why do you weep?" asked the Cat.
"Because I am ashamed," sobbed the King. "I boasted about how clever I was. I thought I knew everything — pretty nearly. And now I find that an old man and a woman and a little lad are all far wiser than I am. Do not try to comfort me!" he wept, as the Queen and the Prime Minister touched his hands. "I am not worth it. I know nothing at all. Not even who I am!"