looking over my
shoulder, exclaims, 'What! my lord; surely you are not going to
stupefy the Queen with the odious sick bumble-bee memorial _to-night_,
are you? Say?'"

"'Certainly I am,' I said; 'what would become of all the business in
the Queen's dominions if it were not for me? Go away, you ugly Ouphe!'
At this, Slyboots rushed off in such a haste, and with such a wicked
gleam in his eye, that I smelt mischief immediately. 'After finishing
my memorial on eleven bees-wings closely written, I was hastening with
it to your Majesty, when I fell, with great violence, over three
successive ropes that were stretched across the section of the hollow
where I had been writing, crumpling and soiling my memorial, and
breaking off a corner of my right wing. I know it is Slyboots that has
committed this outrage. Drive him out of your kingdom, your Majesty!
give him up to the water fairies! tell the snails to poke him well
with their horns!' and in a very torrent of passion and anger, the
prime minister was going on, when the Queen interrupted him
with--'Softly, softly, my lord; we will call Slyboots and hear what he
says.'"

And now there was a great call for the culprit; and presently he came
in the ring, riding on a comical-looking bull-frog, and making
tremendous leaps, apparently in great haste, as if he had been on a
long journey, and had just that moment arrived. With an inconceivably
roguish air, he alighted, and hastening up, bent his knee before the
Queen. The foolish young fairies came very near bursting out laughing
when they saw him put on a demure, innocent look of surprise, as he
caught sight of the scowling face of the prime minister; but at that
moment her Majesty said in an angry tone:

"What shocking mischief have you been doing?"

"_I_ have been doing nothing, your Majesty."

"And who helped you to do it, you saucy goblin?"

"Only a little brown spider," said Slyboots, "and he didn't mean to."

"But between you two, the prime minister has had three heavy falls;
and I am afraid not without intention on _your_ part."

"Please your Majesty, if my lord, the prime minister, loads himself
with such a heavy article as that sick humble-cum-tumble-bee
memorial, and then puts his eyes in his pockets, no wonder he can't
see straight before him, and falls down and cracks his crown. Why
don't he be jolly, like the rest of us? Your Majesty had better order
an unlimited quantity of dandelion feather-beds to be put ar