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 courtiers looked at each other in horror. They had never heard anyone talk like this.
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 hotly. “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 – if you 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.
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 triumph. 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. Who was this perfectly ordinary cat, to sit on his desk and ask him questions!
“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. Try 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. And the green eye lingered for a moment on the frightened eyes of the old Prime Minister.
The King gave a sullen snort of rage.
“Tomfoolery! Nonsensical bosh!”
The Cat held up its paws 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 ABC,” 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. He took his beard in his skinny fingers and stroked it complacently. 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.”