“Mer-magic. You wouldn’t understand,” said the Princess haughtily.
“Were they fighting against us?”
“Yes,” cried Bernard and Mavis before the Princess answered.
“And lucky to do it,” Francis added.
“If you will tell us the fighting strength of the Merlanders, your tails and coats shall be restored to you and you shall go free. Will you tell?”
“Is it likely?” the Princess answered. “I am a Mer-woman, and a Princess of the Royal House. Such do not betray their country.”
“No, I suppose not,” said the Queen. And she paused a moment before she said, “Administer the cup of forgetfulness.”
The cup of forgetfulness was exceedingly pleasant. It tasted of toffee and coconuts, and pineapple ices, and plum cake, and roast chicken, with a faint underflavor of lavender, rose leaves and the very best eau de cologne.
The children had tasted cider-cup and champagne-cup at parties, and had disliked both, but oblivion-cup was delicious. It was served in a goblet of opal color, in dreamy pink and pearl—and green and blue and gray—and the sides of the goblet were engraved with pictures of beautiful people asleep. The goblet passed from hand to hand, and when each had drunk enough the Lord High Cupbearer, a very handsome, reserved-looking fish, laid a restraining touch on the goblet and, taking it between his fins, handed it to the next drinker. So, one by one, each took the draught. Kathleen was the last.
The draught had no effect on four out of the five—but Kathleen changed before their eyes, and though they had known that the draught of oblivion would make her forget, it was terrible to see it do its fell work.