"He's hiding somewhere," whispered the King. "Look out, everybody, or he'll be jumping out suddenly!"

At this suggestion, all the court ladies, with delicate squeals, jumped upon the marble-topped tables and held their petticoats tight around them, while the policeman and the Court Crier and the Admiral and the courtiers ran up and down, peeping under the chairs and behind the bushes and flower-pots in search of Thomas A'Becket.

Meanwhile, Margaret and Frances and Coco Bolo—the little Coco Bolos having been sent back to the nursery—went and sat down on the throne to rest, perceiving which, the Archbishop, thinking he would like to sit down, too, advanced towards them, dragging a chair behind him.

At this moment, Periwinkle, who, as usual, was the last to arrive, came running to jump into Frances' lap, when, passing in front of the King's seat, he suddenly stopped and began to growl.

"What are you growling at?" asked Coco Bolo; and leaning forward, he peeped under the throne, when out bounced Thomas A'Becket right under his nose!

"There he goes!" cried the King, and springing out of his seat, he gave chase.

At the same moment, the Archbishop, letting go his chair, rushed forward, when, as neither of them looked where he was going, they banged their heads together and went over backwards on the grass, where they both sat with their feet straight out in front of them, staring blankly at each other.

The shock of the collision knocked off the Archbishop's mitre and sent it rolling along the ground right in front of Thomas A'Becket, who, seeing what a good hiding-place it would make, popped into it and curled himself up inside.

It was all done so quickly that nobody noticed what had become of the cat except the two little girls, who, jumping down from their seats, ran and picked up the mitre With Thomas A'Becket inside it. Tying the strings together, they carried it between them to the throne and there hung it up on the highest of the gold-knobs at the back of the King's seat.

"Keep quiet, Thomas A'Becket," whispered Margaret, standing on tiptoe on the arm of the seat and peeping into the mitre. "Keep quiet, and you'll be all safe."

"Pur-r-r!" replied Thomas A'Becket, who was really a very nice cat when he was treated with proper respect.

Margaret and Frances then jumped down again, and running to where the King and the Archbishop still sat on the grass, rubbing their heads and staring at each other, they stretched out their hands and pulled them both to their feet again.

"Where's my mitre?" asked the Archbishop, looking all about on the ground. "Oh, it's up there, is it? Did you hang it up? Thank you, ever so much. I'm glad to be rid of it: it's precious heavy and uncomfortable."

"Mitres and crowns are heavy," assented Coco Bolo. "That's the worst of being somebody of importance. But it's no reason why we shouldn't have some refreshment, all the same. So, sit down here at this table, and we'll all have some cookies and aËro-plane water."

"Thank you," said Margaret. "But, if you don't mind, we should like some milk instead. We're a little afraid of the aËro-plane water."

"Very well," said the King, graciously. "And here's a saucerful for Periwinkle. If that foolish cat had only behaved himself he might have had some, too."

"Mi-ow!" said Thomas A'Becket in a plaintive tone, his voice sounding so muffled and indistinct that neither the King nor the Archbishop could tell which direction it came from. They both jumped up and looked under their chairs, but, of course, there was no cat there, so they sat down again.

They had hardly settled themselves in their chairs once more, when the policeman and the Court Crier and the Admiral and the courtiers all came back to say that Thomas A'Becket could not be found.

"What's to be done, then?" asked the King. "What's the law in the case, Policeman?"

"How should I know?" asked the policeman.

"Why, that's your business. You're the guardian of the law, aren't you?"

"I suppose I am," replied the policeman. "But if there are only two laws to guard, and if neither of them fits the case, what are you going to do?"

"Why! Make one that will fit, of course," retorted His Majesty. "Anyone but a blue-gum policeman would know that!"

"Oh, very well, then," said the blue-gum policeman; and straightening himself up, he announced in a loud voice: "Law number three: Any Archbishop whose cat swears in public shall be put in the corner and painted blue."

"That's rubbish," said Margaret. "It wasn't the Archbishop's fault."

"No," added Frances. "And I don't think it's fair to punish a cat or an archbishop either for breaking laws they never heard of—especially a law that was not made till afterwards."

"Sorry," replied the King, with a shake of his head, "but it can't be helped. I'd be glad to let him off, but the law's the law, you know. It makes me weep, Archbishop"—here the King paused and winked at the Court Crier, who hastily snatched a pocket handkerchief out of his caddy-box and shed one tear—"It makes me weep, as you see, Archbishop, but I'm afraid you'll have to be painted blue."

"Blue paint! Blue paint!" shouted all the courtiers.

"Look here!" cried the Archbishop, rising from his chair and rapping his knuckles on the table. "How can anyone think with such a racket going on? Look here, Coco Bolo!" he continued, when the noise had subsided. "This new policeman of yours has never had any lessons in painting, has he? Well, I object to having any brand-new, blue-gum policeman trying experiments on me. I'm the Archbishop of Timbuctoo-and-a-half, am I not? Well—Gracious, goodness!—whoever heard of an archbishop being painted by any but a first-rate artist? It's ridiculous! Perfectly ridiculous! If you want your policeman to practice on somebody, let him practice on the cat. Thomas A'Becket is the one who broke the law first—well, then, paint Thomas A'Becket first!"

This sounded so much like good sense that Margaret and Frances clapped their hands; whereupon, all the courtiers, who had just opened their mouths to shout, "Blue paint!" again, changed their minds and clapped their hands instead.

As for Coco Bolo, he looked puzzled. He tilted his crown over his eye while he scratched his head, and then of a sudden he set it straight again, and jumping out of his chair, he cried:

"I'll tell you what! Look here! Thomas A'Becket is hiding somewhere close by, because we heard him mew just now; so, this is what we'll do. We'll lay a trap for him. We'll set out a saucer of milk on the table and then we'll all go and hide in the bushes and wait for him to come out."

It was a pretty good idea—considering what a thick and solid head the King had, it was a very good idea.

The saucer was filled, when everybody went tiptoing away; Margaret and Frances and Coco Bolo and the Archbishop going and hiding behind the throne.

All was silent, when the little girls, peeping round the end of the throne, saw Thomas A'Becket climb out of the mitre, jump down upon the seat and go walking across the lawn towards the table.

"Look out, Thomas!" whispered Margaret. "Look out, or they'll catch you!"

The old cat turned his head and shut one eye, as much as to say, "Don't you worry," and walked on, until, having reached the table, he jumped upon it, and settling himself comfortably with his fore-paws tucked under his chest, he began lapping up the milk.

Two seconds later, out from behind a bush stepped the blue-gum policeman, butterfly net, paint-pot and all, while from behind every other bush and flower-pot came all the courtiers, with their shoulders up to their ears and their elbows stuck out, walking on tiptoe towards the table.

"Come on, now, and see the fun," whispered Coco Bolo, leading the way round to the front of the throne, where they all stood watching and waiting to see what was to happen next.

The policeman and the courtiers had crept up close to the table; the former already had his butterfly net extended at arm's length to clap it down over Thomas A'Becket; it seemed as though the cat would surely be caught this time, when suddenly a brilliant idea popped into Margaret's head. Jumping into the seat of the throne, she clapped her hands to her mouth and shouted:

"DINNER!"

It was like magic! Thomas A'Becket was completely forgotten in an instant. The whole company, policeman and all, with the Admiral behind them, went racing up the center pathway to the dining-hall; while the jovial little King—who really had no desire to see Thomas A'Becket painted blue—the King, in ecstasies at the success of the trick, flung his crown upon the grass, and went stamping about, laughing so hard that the tears ran out of his eyes.

"Run, now!" he cried, as soon as he could get his breath. "Run, Archbishop, and get aboard your raft! The door is locked up there and they'll all be back in a minute."

"Here's your hat, Archbishop," said Margaret, springing upon the arm of the throne and reaching down the mitre. "And, if you don't mind, I think we'll come with you. It's time for us to go, anyhow."

"I think you had better," agreed the King. "There's no accounting for a blue-gum policeman: he might be wanting to paint you next. So, if I were you, I'd take passage on the Archbishop's raft and skip out at once. Sorry to have you go, but I think you'd better. See! here they come! Good-bye!"—shaking hands hastily—"Good-bye. Call again!"

In fact, having discovered, by the simple process of banging their noses against it, that the door was locked, the courtiers had all turned round, and shouting, "Blue paint! Blue paint!" with all their spare breath, were racing down the pathway again, when Margaret and Frances and the Archbishop, followed by Periwinkle and Thomas A'Becket, set off running for the pier.

Leaping aboard the raft, they untied it, spread the sail, and amid the shouting of the courtiers, the ringing of the Court Crier's bell, the bellowing of the snap-dragon and the barking of the dog-fish, away they sailed and soon were lost to sight in the cloud-wall.

On they went, softly sailing along through the mist, expecting every moment to come out on the other side. But the cloud-wall must have been ever so much thicker than it was when they arrived, for they kept sailing on and on and on, long after the last of the dog-fish had ceased to bark and long after the dragon had given up bellowing.

It was easy, slow, drowsy sort of travelling, and presently Frances, stifling a yawn with difficulty, remarked:

"I feel rather tired. I think I'll sit down a bit and rest."

"I think I will, too," responded Margaret, covering her mouth with both hands.

"So will I," added the Archbishop, with a yawn so tremendous that he had to hold his mitre in front of his face to hide it.

Down they sat, therefore, with their backs against the mast, and as was to be expected, in two seconds they were all sound asleep—Periwinkle and Thomas A'Becket as well.

How long they had been sailing, the children never could tell, when suddenly, "Clink-clank!" went the Court Crier's bell, somewhere close by.

Margaret woke up with a start, clutching her sister by the arm, and then for several seconds she stared about her, wondering where she was.

Nor was it surprising that she should sit and stare, for, when at length she did recognize her surroundings, she found herself beneath the trees by the sea-shore where she and Frances had lain down to rest after their vain pursuit of their shadows that morning.

There, too, sat Frances, bolt upright, blinking and gazing about her in a bewildered manner; and there too, lay Periwinkle, flat on his side, his beady black eyes wide open and his red worsted smile fixed and immovable—a yellow plush puppy once more.

Again the bell sounded. Margaret looked hastily behind her, and there was old Daphne, the milk-cow, quietly feeding, the bell about her neck going "Clink-clank," at every motion.

At the same moment, from far across the ocean came a melancholy "Hoo-oo! Hoo-oo!"

"Hark, Frances! Hark!" cried Margaret. "Did you hear it? There's the poor old dragon bellowing. Somebody else must have arrived. Oh, what an adventure we've had! Come along! Let's run home and tell Daddy! Won't he be glad to hear that there is a King Coco Bolo and a Great American Snap-Dragon and an Archbishop and a Floating Island and everything!"

"Won't he!" said Frances, as they set off homeward hand in hand.