“Correct,” said the papa.
The children rose up into a capital A again, and whispered, “He didn't catch us that time,” and fell back, laughing, and the papa had to go on.
“The fairy godmother thought she would try to bring up the Prince and Princess rather better than most Princes and Princesses were brought up, and so she said that the only thing they should be allowed to do different from other people was to make a mess. If any other persons were caught making a mess they were banished; and there was another law that was perfectly awful.”
“What-was-it-go-ahead?” said the nephew, running all his words together, he was so anxious to know.
“Why, if any person was found clearing up anywhere, and it turned out to be a mess that the royal twins had made, the person was thrown from a tower.”
“Did it kill them?” the niece inquired, rather faintly.
“Well, no, it didn't kill them exactly, but it bounced them up pretty high. You see, they fell on a bed of India-rubber about twenty feet deep. It gave them a good scare; and that's the great thing in throwing persons from a high tower.”
The nephew hastened to improve the opportunity which seemed to be given for asking questions.
“What do you mean exactly by making a mess, uncle?”
“Oh, scattering scraps of paper about, or scuffing the landscape, or getting jam or molasses on the face of nature, or having bonfires in the back yard of the palace, or leaving dolls around on the throne. But what did I say about asking questions? Now there's another thing about this story: when it comes to the exciting part, if you move the least bit, or even breathe loud, the story stops, just as if you didn't know which was the Prince and which was the Princess. Now do you understand?”