"It is the usual thing, your Majesty," the Regent said. "But will your Majesty be pleased to sign these papers?"
The Queen said, "Oh yes, I'll sign them, if you'll just go down into the kitchen and ask for a piece of raw meat, about the size of my hand, and a piece of red flannel about large enough to go round a bat. Oh, and what's a good thing for rheumatism?"
The Regent looked a little surprised. "I—your Majesty, I really don't exactly know."
"Oh, well, ask the cook or somebody."
"Well, but—couldn't I send a servant, your Majesty?" the Regent said.
"No, that wouldn't be any good," the Queen said. "If you're to take the place of my governess you'll have to do that sort of thing, you know."
The Regent bowed. "Of course I shall be only too grateful for your Majesty's commands. I merely thought that your Majesty might need some assistance in signing the papers."
But the Queen answered, "Oh no, I can manage that sort of thing well enough myself. I'm quite used to it; so be quick, and remember, a nice juicy piece of raw meat and some red flannel, and—oh, opodeldoc; that's just the thing. Be quick! I don't want to keep the bat waiting."
The Regent went backwards out of the room, bowing at every three steps, and, as he was clad in armour from top to toe, he made a clanking noise—quite like a tinker's cart, if you've ever beard one.
So, left to herself, the Queen signed the papers one after the other. They all began—