"Does he take it with sugar and cream, your Royal Silver–cross–bell–ness?" Skip asked me, taking off his green cap and bowing low.
"Try him with it in both ways," I said.
When the Workers had made a whole lot of all the kinds together they poured it into a hollow stone and covered it with sugar and cream.
"Ready, your Highnesses!" they all called out in chorus.
"Is that it?" said the Lion. "It looks very nice. How does one eat it? Must I bite it?"
"Dear me, no," I answered. "Lap it."
So he began. If you'll believe me, he simply reveled in it. He ate and ate and ate, and lapped and lapped and lapped and he did not stop until the hollow stone was quite clean and empty and his sides were quite swelled and puffed out. And he looked as pleased as Punch.
"I never ate anything nicer in my life," he said. "There was a Sunday School picnic I once went to."
"A Sunday School picnic!" I shouted so fiercely that he blushed all over. The very tuft on his tail was deep rose color. "Who invited you?"