It was silly of him to be so stuck-up about it, but it only amused the Rainbow Cat.
They were about half-way through the banquet when there was a slight pause. The meat course was finished, and everybody was waiting for the sweets. At that moment a servant came quietly in and whispered to the Queen. She became deadly pale, and half rose in her seat.
“What is the matter, your Majesty?” said the Rainbow Cat, who sat in the place of honour at her right hand.
“He’s done it again,” said the Queen in a low, horrified whisper, sinking weakly down again into her chair.
“Who has done what?” said the Rainbow Cat.
“The Knave—stolen the tarts!” said the Queen with an agonised look. “They’re nowhere to be found. It’s all my fault. He begged so hard to be taken on again that I gave him another chance. Oh! why did I trust him?”
“Isn’t there anything else?” asked the Rainbow Cat.
“Nothing ready,” replied the Queen. “You see, they’re very special tarts. I make them myself. Every one thinks so much of them. What shall I do?”
“Don’t worry,” said the Rainbow Cat. “Send round to all the pastry-cooks’ for anything they have ready, and meanwhile I’ll sing a song to fill up the time.”
The Queen was much relieved at this suggestion, and gave orders that messengers should be dispatched immediately to buy up all the available tarts in the place.