Ritti-Marduk went, seeming only partly satisfied; and then the Queen began to admire the penny account-book and the bit of pencil in so marked and significant a way that Cyril felt he could not do less than press them upon her as a gift. She ruffled the leaves delightedly.
“What a wonderful substance!” she said. “And with this style you make charms? Make a charm for me! Do you know,” her voice sank to a whisper, “the names of the great ones of your own far country?”
“Rather!” said Cyril, and hastily wrote the names of Alfred the Great, Shakespeare, Nelson, Gordon, Lord Beaconsfield, Mr Rudyard Kipling, and Mr Sherlock Holmes, while the Queen watched him with “unbaited breath”, as Anthea said afterwards.
She took the book and hid it reverently among the bright folds of her gown.
“You shall teach me later to say the great names,” she said. “And the names of their Ministers—perhaps the great Nisroch is one of them?”
“I don’t think so,” said Cyril. “Mr Campbell Bannerman’s Prime Minister and Mr Burns a Minister, and so is the Archbishop of Canterbury, I think, but I’m not sure—and Dr Parker was one, I know, and—”
“No more,” said the Queen, putting her hands to her ears. “My head’s going round with all those great names. You shall teach them to me later—because of course you’ll make us a nice long visit now you have come, won’t you? Now tell me—but no, I am quite tired out with your being so clever. Besides, I’m sure you’d like me to tell you something, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” said Anthea. “I want to know how it is that the King has gone—”
“Excuse me, but you should say ‘the King may-he-live-for-ever’,” said the Queen gently.
“I beg your pardon,” Anthea hastened to say—“the King may-he-live-for-ever has gone to fetch home his fourteenth wife? I don’t think even Bluebeard had as many as that. And, besides, he hasn’t killed you at any rate.”