"I don't see what harm the revolution could do to the market."
"Why, don't you see," the beggar said, "when they get to fighting the arrows fly about all over the place, and the horses would knock the stalls over. Besides, the soldiers steal everything, or set fire to it. Look, there's a house still smouldering."
And, indeed, one of the market houses was a heap of charred ruins.
"But what was the good of it?" the Queen asked.
And the beggar answered, "Well, you see, it belonged to one of the opposite party, and he wouldn't surrender and have his head chopped off."
"I should think not," the Queen said.
The streets were quite empty, and all the shutters were closed. Here and there an arrow was sticking into the walls or the doors.
"Do people never walk about the streets?" the Queen asked.
"It wouldn't be safe when there's a revolution on," the beggar answered.
Just at that moment they arrived before the door of a house that, like all the rest, was closely shut up. Over the door was written—