CHAPTER IV: Tweedledum And Tweedledee

They were standing under a tree, each with an arm round the other's neck, and Prim knew which was which in a moment, because one of them had Dum embroidered on his collar, and the other Dee. "I suppose they've each got Tweedle round at the back of the collar," she said to herself.

They stood so still that she quite forgot they were alive, and she was just looking round to see if the word Tweedle was written at the back of each collar when she was startled by a voice coming from the one marked Dum—it was Peeta Mellark's, her sister's finance!

"If you think we're wax-works," Peeta said, "you ought to pay, you know. Wax-works weren't made to be looked at for nothing, no how."

"Contrariwise," added the one marked Dee—who Prim promptly recognized as her sister's friend, Gale Hawthorne, "if you think we're alive, you ought to speak."

"I'm sure. I'm very sorry,' was all Prim could say, for the words of the old song kept ringing through her head like the ticking of a clock. And she could hardly help saying them out loud:

'Tweedledum and Tweedledee
Agreed to have a royal battle;
For Tweedledum said Tweedledee
Had spoiled his betrothed's bauble.

Just then flew down a mockingjay,
As black as a tar-barrel;
Which frightened them in such a way,
That they quite forgot their quarrel.'

"I know what you're thinking about," said Peeta, "but it isn't so, no how."

"Contrariwise," continued Gale, "if it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn't, it ain't. That's logic."

"I was thinking," Prim said very politely, "which is the best way out of this wood. It's getting so dark. Would you tell me, please?"

But the little men only looked at each other and grinned.

Since they looked so exactly like a couple of great schoolboys, Prim couldn't help pointing her finger at Tweedledum, and say, "Peeta."

"No how!" Peeta cried out briskly, shutting his mouth up again with a snap.

"Gale," said Prim passing on to Tweedledee, though she felt quite certain he would only shout out "Contrariwise!", and so he did.

"You've been wrong," cried Peeta. "The first thing in a visit is to say, 'How d'ye do?' and shake hands."

And here the two young men gave each other a hug and then they held out the two hands that were free to shake hands with her.

Prim did not like shaking hands first with either of them for fear of hurting the other one's feelings. So, as the best way out of the difficulty, she took hold of both hands at once.

The next moment they were dancing round in a ring. This seemed quite natural (she remembered afterwards), and she was not even surprised to hear music playing, which seemed to come from the tree closest to where they were dancing, and it was done (as well as she could make it out) by the branches rubbing together, like fiddles and fiddle-sticks.

"But it certainly was funny," (Prim said afterwards, when she was telling her sister the history of all this), "to find myself singing Here we go round the mulberry bush. I don't know when I began it, but somehow I felt as if I'd been singing it a long long time."

The other two dancers were lackadaisical and very soon out of breath. "Four times round is enough for one dance," Peeta panted out, and they left off dancing as suddenly as they had begun. The music stopped at the same moment.

Then they let go of Prim's hands and stood looking at her for a minute. There was a rather awkward pause, as Prim did not know how to begin a conversation with people she had just been dancing with. "It would never do to say 'How d'ye do?' now," she said to herself. "We seem to have got beyond that, somehow."

"I hope you're not much tired?" she said at last.

"No how. And thank you very much for asking," said Peeta.

"So much obliged," added Gale. "You like poetry?"

"Ye-es, pretty well...some poetry," Prim said doubtfully. "Would you tell me which road leads out of the wood?"

"What shall I repeat to her?" Gale asked, looking round at Peeta with great solemn eyes, not noticing Prim's question.

"The Valley Song. Melodies always make poems more palatable," said Peeta, giving his finance's good friend an affectionate hug.

Gale began instantly:

"Down in the valley, the valley so low—"

Here Prim ventured to interrupt him. "If it's very long," she said as politely as she could, "would you please tell me first which road—"

Gale smiled gently, and began again:

Down in the valley, the valley so low,
Hang your head over, hear the winds blow.
Hear the winds blow, dear, hear the winds blow.
Hang your head over, hear the winds blow.

Down in the valley, walking between,
Telling our story, here's what it means.
Here's what it means, dear, here's what it means,
Telling our story, here's what it means.

Roses love sunshine, violets love dew,
Angels in heaven know I love you;
Know I love you, dear, know I love you,
Angels in heaven know I love you.

Build me a castle forty feet high,
So I can see him as he rides by;
As he rides by, dear, as he rides by,
So I can see him as he rides by.

Writing this letter, containing three lines,
Answer my question, "Will you be mine?"
"Will you be mine, dear, will you be mine,"
Answer my question, "Will you be mine?"

If you don't love me, love whom you please,
Throw your arms round me, give my heart ease.
Give my heart ease, dear, give my heart ease,
Throw your arms round me, give my heart ease.

Throw your arms round me, before it's too late;
Throw your arms round me, feel my heart break.
Feel my heart break, dear, feel my heart break.
Throw your arms round me, feel my heart break.

"That was nice," said Prim. "My sister sings this one a lot. Well, she used to."

"She used to sing it when we were returning from hunting," said Gale. "I was never sure if there was a message in it for me."

"I wouldn't presume anything," Prim said indifferently. "She would sing just for the sake of it at times, like our father."

"But she should have song more at school," said Peeta. "She should have joined choir."

This was a puzzler. After a pause, Prim began, "Well, she had no time after school. She had to provide for..." Here she checked herself, alarmed at hearing something that sounded to her like the puffing of a large steam-engine in the wood nearby, though she feared it was more likely to be a wild beast. "Are there any lions or tigers about here?" she asked timidly.

"It's only the Red King snoring," said Gale.

"Come and look at him," the two young men cried, and they each took one of Prim's hands and led her up to where the Red King was sleeping.

"Isn't he a lovely sight?" said Peeta.

Prim could not say honestly that he was lovely or not, for you see, she recognized the man to be Plutarch Heavensbee, the Head Gamemaker, the recent planner of the terrible games that sacrificed children, and now, war propagandist.

The man wore a tall red night-cap with a tassel, and he was lying crumpled up into a sort of untidy heap, and snoring loud, "fit to snore his head off!" as Peeta remarked.

"I'm afraid he'll catch cold with lying on the damp grass," said Prim, who was a very thoughtful little girl despite any feelings she may hold against the man.

"He's dreaming now,' said Gale, "and what do you think he's dreaming about?"

Prim said, "Nobody can guess that."

"Why, about you!" Gale exclaimed, clapping his hands triumphantly. "And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose you'd be?"

"Where I am now, of course," said Prim.

"Not you," Gale retorted contemptuously. "You'd be nowhere. Why, you're only a sort of thing in his dream."

"If that there propagandist was to wake," added Peeta, "you'd go out—bang! Just like a candle."

"I shouldn't," Prim exclaimed indignantly. "Besides, if I'm only a sort of thing in his dream, what are you, I should like to know?"

"Ditto," said Peeta.

"Ditto, ditto," cried Gale.

He shouted this so loud that Prim couldn't help saying, "Hush, I'm afraid you'll be waking him if you make so much noise."

"Well, it no use your talking about waking him," said Peeta, "when you're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you're not real."

"I am real!" said Prim, who began to cry.

"You won't make yourself a bit realer by crying," Gale remarked. "There's nothing to cry about."

"If I wasn't real," Prim said, half-laughing through her tears for it all seemed so ridiculous, "I shouldn't be able to cry."

"I hope you don't suppose those are real tears?" Peeta interrupted, in a tone of doubt.

I know they're talking nonsense, Prim thought to herself, and it's foolish to cry about it. So she brushed away her tears and went on as cheerfully as she could, "At any rate I'd better be getting out of the wood, for really, it's coming on very dark. Do you think it's going to rain?"

Peeta spread a large umbrella over himself, including Gale, and looked up into it. "No; I don't think it is," he said. "At least, not under here. No how."

"But it may rain outside?"

"It may, if it chooses," said Gale. "We've no objection. Contrariwise."

Selfish things! thought Prim, and she was just going to say "Good-night" and leave them when Peeta sprang out from under the umbrella and seized her by the wrist.

Do you see that?' he said in a voice choking with passion, and his eyes grew large and yellow all in a moment as he pointed with a trembling finger at a small metallic object lying under the tree.

"It's only a lost piece of jewelry," Prim said after a simple examination of the little metallic thing. "Nothing dangerous, you know," she added hastily, thinking that he was frightened. "Only an old broach or pin, quite old and dirty."

"I knew it was!" cried Peeta, beginning to stamp about wildly as he pulled at his hair. "It's spoilt, of course!" Here he looked at Gale, who immediately sat down on the ground and tried to hide himself under the umbrella.

Prim laid her hand upon his arm and said in a soothing tone, "You needn't be so angry about an old piece of jewelry."

"But it isn't old!" Tweedledum cried in a greater fury than ever. "It's Katniss's mockingjay pin, I tell you. I was supposed to look over it; I wanted to keep it safe!" and his voice rose to a perfect scream.

All this time, Gale was trying his best to fold up the umbrella with himself in it, which was such an extraordinary thing to do that it quite took Prim's attention away from the angry young man. But Gale couldn't quite succeed, and his attempt ended in his rolling over, bundled up in the umbrella with only his head out; and there he lay, opening and shutting his mouth and large eyes.

Looking more like a fish than anything else, Prim thought.

"Of course you agree to have a battle?" Peeta said in a calmer tone.

"I suppose so," Gale sulkily replied as he crawled out of the umbrella. "Only she must help us to dress up, you know."

The two young men next went off hand-in-hand into the wood and returned in a minute with their arms full of things: such as bolsters, blankets, hearth-rugs, table-cloths, dish-covers and coal-scuttles.

"I hope you're a good hand at pinning and tying strings," Peeta remarked. "Every one of these things has got to go on, somehow or other."

Prim said afterwards she had never seen such a fuss made about anything in all her life, the way those two bustled about, and the quantity of things they put on, and the trouble they gave her in tying strings and fastening buttons. "Really, they'll be more like bundles of old clothes than anything else by the time they're ready," she said to herself as she arranged a bolster round the neck of Gale

"To keep his head from being cut off." Gale then added very gravely, "You know, it's one of the most serious things that can possibly happen to one in a battle, to get one's head cut off."

Prim laughed aloud, but she managed to turn it into a cough for fear of hurting his feelings.

"Do I look very pale?" Peeta asked, coming up to have his helmet tied on. (He called it a helmet though it certainly looked much more like a saucepan.)

"Well...yes...a little," Prim replied gently.

"I'm very brave generally," Peeta went on in a low voice. "Only today I happen to have a headache."

"And I've got a toothache," said Gale, who had overheard the remark. "I'm far worse off than you."

"Then you'd better not fight today," Prim said, thinking it a good opportunity to make peace.

"We must have a bit of a fight, but I don't care about going on long," said Peeta. "What's the time now?"

Gale looked at his watch and said, "Half-past four."

"Let's fight till six and then have dinner,' said Peeta.

"Very well," the other said rather sadly. "And she can watch us, only you'd better not come very close," he added. "I generally hit everything I can see when I get really excited."

"And I hit everything within reach," cried Peeta, "whether I can see it or not."

Prim laughed. "You must hit the trees pretty often, I should think."

Peeta looked round him with a satisfied smile. "I don't suppose," he said, "there'll be a tree left standing for ever so far round by the time we've finished."

"And all about a pin," said Prim, still hoping to make them a little ashamed of fighting for such a trifle.

"I shouldn't have minded it so much," said Peeta, "if it hadn't been your sister's."

I wish an actual mockingjay would come! thought Prim.

"There's only one sword, you know," Peeta said to his opponent. "But you can have the umbrella; it's quite as sharp. Only we must begin quickly. It's getting as dark as it can."

"And darker," said Gale.

It was getting dark so suddenly that Prim thought there must be a thunderstorm coming on. "What a thick black cloud that is," she said. "And how fast it comes. Why, I do believe it's got wings!'

"It's a mockingjay! It's the largest one I've ever seen!" Peeta cried out in a shrill voice of alarm, and the two young men took to their heels and were out of sight in a moment.

Prim ran a little way into the wood and stopped under a large tree. It can never get at me 'here', she thought. It's far too large to squeeze itself in among the trees. But I wish it wouldn't flap its wings so; it makes quite a hurricane in the wood.

Prim soon spotted a piece of wool tumbling past on the trail and said aloud, "See; here's somebody's shawl being blown away!"