Tavy spoke to her. But she would not answer. Nor did she speak all day. Only at night when he was getting into bed she suddenly mewed, stretched, and said:
‘Make haste, there’s a play acted to-night at my castle.’
Tavy made haste, and was rewarded by another glorious evening in the castle of the White Cat.
And so the weeks went on. Days full of an ordinary little boy’s joys and sorrows, goodnesses and badnesses. Nights spent by a little Prince in the Magic Castle of the White Cat.
Then came the day when Tavy’s mother spoke to him, and he, very scared and serious, told the China Cat what she had said.
‘I knew this would happen,’ said the Cat. ‘It always does. So you’re to leave your house next week. Well, there’s only one way out of the difficulty. Draw your sword, Tavy, and cut off my head and tail.’
‘And then will you turn into a Princess, and [p155 shall I have to marry you?’ Tavy asked with horror.
‘No, dear—no,’ said the Cat reassuringly. ‘I sha’n’t turn into anything. But you and mother will turn into happy people. I shall just not be any more—for you.’
‘Then I won’t do it,’ said Tavy.
‘But you must. Come, draw your sword, like a brave fairy Prince, and cut off my head.’