THE COURT OF THE PANJANDRUM
“And therefore I can entirely understand that a comely maiden of small stature, who desires to proceed with the serious business of life in peaceful repose,” continued Anthony Rowley, “may find it disturbing to be compelled to remain in idleness in a land given up to mirth and merriment.”
Lucy jumped up to her feet quickly, but once more sat down very suddenly.
“Do you wish to say anything further?” asked the Young Man, watching the Grand Panjandrum’s button rather anxiously.
“Heigho!” sighed Anthony Rowley.
“Then now it is our turn,” cried Rowley-Powley, and before the Young Man could even call “Order in the court,” Rowley-Powley had jumped over Gammon’s back, and Gammon over Spinach’s, Then they all three rushed at Anthony Rowley, two of them seized his arms, the other picked up his legs, and sweeping him off his feet, they carried him away out of the court.
“Heigho!” said Anthony Rowley.
“Dear me!” said the Owl. “Uncongenial surroundings seem to be exceedingly unpleasant.”
The Grand Panjandrum’s button was bob, bob, bobbing, up and down, up and down, it looked as if it would bob itself off.
“Lucy, Lucy, appear before the Court of the Grand Panjandrum,” shouted the Young Man.
Lucy jumped up quickly, and tried to move forward, only to find that she was a prisoner, her dress seemed somehow caught fast in the hedge.
“Stay where you are,” said the Young Man, “and answer the Pussy Cat’s questions quietly and quickly.”
“How many verses have you?” asked the Pussy Cat.
“Six,” said Lucy, “and I won’t cut one out.”
“Say the third,” said the Pussy Cat.
Lucy began to think, began to speak, stopped, looked puzzled, and frowned.
“Is it sense or nonsense?” asked the Young Man.
