"Ah, you like cats," the bat said, "and you'd tell them the secret; and then there'd be no peace for me. Ugh!—flying cats!" And the bat shuddered and wrapped his wings round his head.
"Oh, but I promise I won't tell," the Queen said eagerly; "indeed I do. Dear bat, you are so wise, and so good, and so handsome, do tell me."
Now, the bat was rather susceptible to compliments, and so he unshrouded his head, pretending not to have heard, though he had.
"What did you say?" he said.
And the Queen repeated her words.
That pleased him, and he answered, "Well, there's a certain flower that has two remarkable properties—one, that people who carry it about with them can always fly, and the other, that it will restore the blind to sight."
"Yes; but I shall have to travel over ever so many mountains and rivers and things before I can find it," the Queen said dismally.
"How do you know that?" the bat asked sharply.
"I don't know it, I only supposed it; at least I've read it in books."
"Well, of course, if you go supposing things and reading them in books, I can't do anything for you," the bat said. "The only good I can see in books is that they breed bookworms, and the worms turn into flies; but even they aren't very good to eat. When I was a mouse, though, I used to nibble books to pieces, and the bits made rare good nests. So there is some good in the most useless of things. But I don't need a nest now that I can fly."