The Queen. But I can't bear it! Oh, make a spell and turn her ugly—as ugly as a toad!
The Witch. Won't! Refuse to make any more bad spells. If you can't bear the sight of her why not send her away somewhere,— say to boarding-school.
The Queen. But she'd come back.
The Witch. Why should she? Suppose at boarding-school she gets mumps or freckles, or whatever those children's diseases are, and dies of it.
The Queen. Oh, I see! You'll make a spell and give her the disease.
The Witch. No, no, no! Won't do any more bad magic, I tell you. You must contrive to have her lost on the way to boarding-school, and then just tell some tarradiddle to explain why she never comes back—and there you are ! Everything permanently settled, and a little peace for me I hope.
The Queen. I might! I could send Berthold,
