And with them ran away.’
“I am the Queen of Hearts,” said the lady, bowing politely.
“Pleased to meet you,” spoke Uncle Wiggily, also with a low bow. “So that is the trouble, eh? The Jack of Hearts has taken the tarts away?”
“Well, no, not exactly,” answered the Heart Queen. “You see, I haven’t yet made the tarts. But, when I do, I suppose the Jack will take them, and then there’ll be trouble, for Old King Cole specially wants them.”
“Why haven’t you yet made them?” asked the bunny uncle. “If it says in the Mother Goose book that you must make the tarts, why don’t you make them?”
“Because, in the first place,” answered the Queen of Hearts, sort of shivering like, “this isn’t a Summer day. And, in the second place, I don’t know how to make the tarts—that’s the trouble.”
“Well, that is easily mended,” spoke the bunny uncle. “I can’t make a Summer day out of a Spring one, but I can show you how to make tarts.”
“Oh, can you—and will you?” asked the Queen of Hearts, clapping her hands in delight.
“I can and will,” said Uncle Wiggily, kindly. “I have often watched Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy, my muskrat lady bungalow-keeper, make them, so I ought to know how.”
“Tell me,” said the Queen, “and we’ll do it.”