That it’s no trifling matter to call on the Queen.
Jon Duan.
The Destruction of a Cat.
Miss Pussy jumped down, like a thief in the night,
From the cream in the cupboard with eyes gleaming bright;
And the ends of her whiskers bedabbled her face,
When Somnus had chloroform’d Europa’s race.
Like all guilty creatures, she feared to be seen,
And crawled o’er the carpet so spotlessly clean;