“Yes; now another question. What is beautiful?”
“Beautiful?” repeated Adjective, looking very red now; “beautiful is an adjective.”
“Very well. Now, Mr. Adjective,” said Serjeant Parsing, “kindly tell me how you got the adjective beautiful?”
“I made it,” answered Adjective, with his eyes on the ground.
“How did you make it?”
“I stuck ful on to beauty. When I want to say a thing is full of beauty I call it beautiful.”
“And how did you get beauty, since it belongs to Mr. Noun?” asked Serjeant Parsing.
“I took it,” replied Adjective, still looking down.
“Which means to say that you stole it. It is quite clear that you stole it, and that you did the same to grace, home, duty, and others, to make graceful, homely, dutiful, and the rest. My lord, I think I need say nothing more: the prisoner himself owns that he took these words; it only remains for you to give him his punishment.”
The Judge looked very grave, and was beginning to say, “Mr. Adjective, I am very sorry——” when Serjeant Parsing interrupted him, and said:—