“Put both the men in prison till one of them owns up that the other is innocent.”
“But suppose they both did it?” Cyril could not help interrupting.
“Then prison’s the best place for them,” said the Queen.
“But suppose neither did it.”
“That’s impossible,” said the Queen; “a thing’s not done unless someone does it. And you mustn’t interrupt.”
Then came a woman, in tears, with a torn veil and real ashes on her head—at least Anthea thought so, but it may have been only road-dust. She complained that her husband was in prison.
“What for?” said the Queen.
“They said it was for speaking evil of your Majesty,” said the woman, “but it wasn’t. Someone had a spite against him. That was what it was.”
“How do you know he hadn’t spoken evil of me?” said the Queen.
“No one could,” said the woman simply, “when they’d once seen your beautiful face.”