CHAPTER VI: Pig and Pepper
For a minute or two, Prim stood looking at the house, wondering what to do next, when suddenly a footman in a servant uniform came running out of the wood and rapped loudly at the door with his knuckles. (She considered him a footman because he was in livery; otherwise, judging by his face only, she would have called him a fish.) The door was opened by another footman in livery with a round face and large eyes like a frog; and both footmen, Prim noticed, had powdered hair that curled all over their heads. She felt very curious to know what it was all about and crept a little way out of the wood to listen.
The Fish-Footman began by producing from under his arm a great letter nearly as large as himself, and this he handed over to the other, saying in a solemn tone, "For the Duchess. An invitation from the Queen to play croquet."
The Frog-Footman repeated in the same solemn tone, only changing the order of the words a little, "From the Queen. An invitation for the Duchess to play croquet."
Then they both bowed low, and their curls got entangled together.
Prim laughed so much at this that she had to run back into the wood for fear of their hearing her; and when she next peeped out, the Fish-Footman was gone and the other was sitting on the ground near the door, staring stupidly up into the sky.
Prim went timidly up to the door and knocked.
"There's no sort of use in knocking," said the Footman, "and that for two reasons. First, because I'm on the same side of the door as you are; secondly, because they're making such a noise inside. No one could possibly hear you." And certainly, there was a most extraordinary noise going on within—a constant howling and sneezing, and every now and then a great crash, as if a dish or kettle had been broken to pieces.
"Please, then," said Prim, "how am I to get in?"
"There might be some sense in your knocking," the Footman went on without attending to her, "if we had the door between us. For instance, if you were inside, you might knock, and I could let you out, you know." He was looking up into the sky all the time he was speaking, and this Prim thought decidedly uncivil.
But perhaps he can't help it, she thought to herself. His eyes are so very nearly at the top of his head. But at any rate, he might answer questions. "How am I to get in?" She repeated aloud.
"I shall sit here," the Footman remarked, "till tomorrow—"
At this moment, the door of the house opened, and a large plate came skimming out straight at the Footman's head; the dish just grazed his nose and broke to pieces against one of the trees behind him.
"—or next day, maybe," the Footman continued in the same tone exactly as if nothing had happened.
"How am I to get in?" asked Prim again in a louder tone.
"Are you to get in at all?" asked the Footman. "That's the first question, you know."
It was the question, no doubt, only Prim did not like to be told so. "It's really dreadful," she muttered to herself, "the way all the creatures argue. It's enough to drive one crazy."
The Footman seemed to think this a good opportunity for repeating his remark with variations. "I shall sit here," he said, "on and off for days and days."
"But what am I to do?" asked Prim.
"Anything you like," replied the Footman who began to whistle.
"Oh, there's no use in talking to him," said Prim desperately. "He's perfectly idiotic." And she opened the door and went in.
The door led right into a large kitchen, which was full of smoke from one end to the other. Dressed in duchess attire, Johanna Mason was sitting on a three-legged stool in the middle, nursing a baby. Greasy Sae was leaning over the fire, stirring a large cauldron which seemed to be full of soup.
Who would make Johanna a duchess? thought Prim. I shall be careful though, or else she'll box my ears. She then glanced into the cauldron. "And There's certainly too much pepper in that soup," Prim said to herself as well as she could for sneezing.
There was certainly too much of it in the air. Even Duchess Johanna sneezed occasionally; and as for the baby, it was sneezing and howling alternately without a moment's pause. The only things in the kitchen that did not sneeze were Greasy Sae and a woman surgically altered to look like a cat, who was sitting on the hearth and grinning from ear to ear.
"Please would you tell me," asked Prim a little timidly since she was not quite sure whether it was good manners for her to speak first, "why that woman grins like that?"
"She's a Cheshire cat," said Duchess Johanna, "and that's why. Pig!" Johanna said the last word with such sudden violence that Prim quite jumped
But Prim saw in another moment that it was addressed to the baby and not to her, so she took courage and went on again. "I didn't know that...Cheshire cats always grinned; in fact, I didn't know that a person could be turned into a cat."
"She's a stylist," said Duchess Johanna. "They do whatever their vivid imaginations fancy. It happens all the time."
"I don't know of any cat people," Prim said very politely, feeling quite pleased to have got into a conversation.
"You don't know much," said Duchess Johanna, "and that's a fact."
Prim did not at all like the tone of this remark and thought it would be as well to introduce some other subject of conversation.
While she was trying to fix on one, Greasy Sae took the cauldron of soup off the fire and at once set to work throwing everything within her reach at Duchess Johanna and the baby: the fire-irons came first, followed a shower of saucepans, plates, and dishes.
Duchess Johanna took no notice of them, even when they hit her; and the baby was howling so much already that it was quite impossible to say whether the blows hurt it or not.
"Oh, please mind what you're doing!' cried Prim, jumping up and down in an agony of terror. When an unusually large saucepan flew close by the proboscis and very nearly carried it off, Prim said, "Oh, there goes his precious nose."
"If everybody minded their own business," Duchess Johanna said in a hoarse growl, "the world would go round a deal faster than it does."
"Which would not be an advantage," said Prim, who felt very glad to get an opportunity of showing off a little of her knowledge. "Just think of what work it would make with the day and night. You see the earth takes twenty-four hours to turn round on its axis—"
"Talking of axes," said Duchess Johanna, "chop off her head!"
Prim glanced rather anxiously at Greasy Sae to see if she meant to take the hint, but Greasy Sae was busily stirring the soup and seemed not to be listening, so Prim went on again. "Twenty four hours, I think; or is it twelve? I—"
"Oh, don't bother me," said Duchess Johanna. "I never could abide figures." And with that, she began nursing her child again, singing a sort of lullaby to it as she did so, and giving it a violent shake at the end of every line:
"Speak roughly to your little boy,
And beat him when he sneezes:
He only does it to annoy,
Because he knows it teases."
CHORUS.
(In which Greasy Sae and the baby joined)
"Wow! wow! Wow!"
While Duchess Johanna sang the second verse of the song, she kept tossing the baby violently up and down, and the poor little thing howled so that Prim could hardly hear the words:
"I speak severely to my boy,
I beat him when he sneezes;
For he can thoroughly enjoy
The pepper when he pleases!"
CHORUS.
"Wow! wow! Wow!"
"Here, you may nurse it a bit, if you like," Duchess Johanna said to Prim, flinging the baby at her as she spoke. "I must go and get ready to play croquet with the Queen."
And as Duchess Johanna hurried out of the room, Greasy Sae threw a frying-pan after the tempered victor as she went out, but it just missed her.
Prim caught the baby with some difficulty as it was a queer-shaped little creature and held out its arms and legs in all directions. Just like a starfish, thought Prim. The poor little thing was snorting like a steam-engine when she caught it and kept doubling itself up and straightening itself out again, so that altogether, for the first minute or two, it was as much as she could do to hold it.
As soon as Prim had made out the proper way of nursing it (which was to twist it up into a sort of knot, and then keep tight hold of its right ear and left foot, so as to prevent its undoing itself) she carried it out into the open air. If I don't take this child away with me, thought Prim, they're sure to kill it in a day or two. "Wouldn't it be murder to leave it behind?" She thought those last words aloud, and the little thing grunted in reply (it had left off sneezing by this time). "Don't grunt," said Prim; "that's not at all a proper way of expressing yourself."
The baby grunted again, and Prim looked very anxiously into its face to see what was the matter with it. There could be no doubt that it had a very turn-up nose, much more like a snout than a real nose; moreover, its eyes were getting extremely small for a baby. Altogether, Prim did not like the look of the thing at all. But perhaps it was only sobbing, she thought before looking into its eyes again to see if there were any tears.
No, there were no tears. "If you're going to turn into a pig, my dear," said Prim seriously, "I'll have nothing more to do with you. Mind now."
The poor little thing sobbed again (or grunted, it was impossible to say which), and they went on for some while in silence.
Prim was just beginning to think to herself, Now, what am I to do with this creature when I get it home? when it grunted again, so violently, that she looked down into its face in some alarm. This time there could be no mistake about it: it was neither more nor less than a pig, and she felt that it would be quite absurd for her to carry it further.
So she set the little creature down and felt quite relieved to see it trot away quietly into the wood. "If it had grown up," she said to herself, "it would have made a dreadfully ugly child; however, it makes rather a handsome pig, I think." And she began thinking over other children she knew, who might do very well as pigs and was just saying to herself, "If one only knew the right way to change them—" when she was a little startled by seeing the Cheshire Cat sitting on a bough of a tree a few yards off.
The cat woman only grinned when she saw Prim.
She looks good-natured, thought Prim. Still, the surgically altered woman had very long claws and a great many sharpened teeth, so Prim felt that she ought to be treated with respect.
"Cheshire Puss," she began rather timidly as she did not at all know whether it would like the name.
The cat woman only grinned a little wider before saying, "My name is Tigris."
She's pleased so far, thought Prim, and she went on. "Tigris, would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"
"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," said the cat woman.
"I don't much care where," said Prim.
"Then it doesn't matter which way you go," said the cat woman.
"So long as I get somewhere," Prim added as an explanation.
"Oh, you're sure to do that," said the cat woman, "if you only walk long enough."
Prim felt that this could not be denied, so she tried another question. "What sort of people live about here?"
"In that direction," the cat woman said, waving its right paw round, "lives a ditsy Escort, and in that direction," waving the other paw, "lives a zealous Stylist. Visit either you like; they're both mad."
"But I don't want to go among mad people," Prim remarked.
"Oh, you can't help that," said the cat woman. "We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."
"How do you know I'm mad?" asked Prim.
"You must be," said the cat woman, "or you wouldn't have come here."
Prim didn't think that proved it at all; however, she went on, "And how do you know that you're mad?"
"To begin with," said the cat woman, "a dog's not mad. You grant that?"
"I suppose so," said Prim.
"Well, then," the cat woman went on, "you see, a dog growls when it's angry, and wags its tail when it's pleased. Now I growl when I'm pleased, and wag my tail when I'm angry. Therefore I'm mad."
"I call it purring, not growling," said Prim.
"Call it what you like," said cat woman. "Do you play croquet with the Queen today?"
"I should like it very much," said Prim, "but I haven't been invited yet."
"You'll see me there," said the Cheshire Cat and vanished.
Prim was not much surprised at this; she was getting so used to queer things happening. While she was looking at the place where it had been, Tigris suddenly appeared again.
"By-the-bye, what became of the baby?" asked the cat woman. "I had nearly forgotten to ask."
"It turned into a pig," Prim quietly replied just as if it had come back in a natural way.
"I thought it would," said the cat woman and vanished again.
Prim waited a little, half expecting to see cat woman again, but the woman did not appear, and after a minute or two, she walked on in the direction in which the Stylist was said to live. "I've seen escorts before," she said to herself; "a Stylist will be much the most interesting, and perhaps as this is May, he won't be raving mad—at least not so mad as he may be in winter with all those drab colors." As Prim said this, she looked up, and there was the cat woman again, sitting on a branch of a tree.
"Did you say pig, or fig?" asked cat woman.
"I said pig," replied Prim. "And Tigris, I wish you wouldn't keep appearing and vanishing so suddenly; you make one quite giddy."
"All right," said the cat woman, and this time, the Cheshire Cat vanished quite slowly, beginning with the end of the tail and ending with the grin, which remained some time after the rest of it had gone.
Well, I've often seen a cat without a grin, thought Prim; but a grin without a cat, it's the most curious thing I ever saw in my life.
She had not gone much farther before she came in sight of the house of the Stylist. She thought it must be the right house, because the chimneys were designed like bolts of checkerboard fabric and the roof was thatched with stained paintbrushes. It was so large a house that she did not like to go nearer till she had nibbled some more of the left-hand bit of mushroom and raised herself to about two feet high; even then, she walked up towards it rather timidly, saying to herself "Suppose this person should be raving mad after all. I almost wish I'd gone to see the Escort instead."