“Winding us up, to be sure,” answered Faxa. “You don’t suppose, surely, that we can go for ever?”
“Extraordinary!” said Jack. “Then are you wound up every evening, like watches?”
“Unless we have misbehaved ourselves,” she answered; “and then she lets us run down.”
“And what then?”
“What then?” repeated Faxa, “why, then we have to stop and stand against a wall, till she is pleased to forgive us, and let our friends carry us in to be set going again.”
Jack looked in, and saw the people pass in and stand close by the woman. One after the other she took by the chin with her left hand, and with her right hand found a key that pleased her. It seemed to Jack that there was a tiny keyhole in the back of their heads, and that she put the key in and wound them up.
“You must take your turn with the others,” said the groom.
“There’s no keyhole in my head,” said Jack; “besides, I do not want any woman to wind me up.”
“But you must do as others do,” he persisted; “and if you have no keyhole, our Queen can easily have one made, I should think.”
“Make one in my head!” exclaimed Jack. “She shall do no such thing.”