"With pleasure," replied the King. "Ladies, let me present the Archbishop of Timbuctoo-and-a-half. Archbishop, these are my friends, Margaret and Frances, who have done me the honor to come to my garden-party. And talking of garden-parties," he continued, "come along up to the palace and have some refreshment. Bring your cat, too. I expect he's hungry. What's his name?" "Thomas A'Becket," replied the Archbishop. "Come on, Thomas!" he called to the cat. "Come and have some milk." [Illustration: _He was a jaunty young gentleman_] But Thomas A'Becket declined. He looked at the Archbishop, but he stayed where he was. "He's a little out of sorts today," remarked the Archbishop, "and if he has made up his mind to stay up there, it's no use trying to make him come down." "Isn't it, though!" cried the dragon, hastily pulling off his boxing-gloves. "Just you wait a minute. I'll make him." "Hallo, Lobsterneck!" exclaimed the Archbishop, giving the dragon a friendly tap on the head with his crozier. "You're here, are you? Glad to see you again, old gargoyle. So you think you can make Thomas A'Becket come down, do you? All right. Go ahead, and let's see how you do it." "I'll show you, Archbishop," replied Lobsterneck. "I'll fetch him down all right--never you fear." Standing on the pier, the dragon stretched out his long neck and tried to pick the cat off the top of the mast with his teeth. He could not quite reach him, however, so--forgetting what a rickety sort of thing a raft is--he gathered his six feet under him and jumped aboard. Greatly to his astonishment, the raft instantly tilted up, the mast came over and hit him a severe crack on the crown of his head, and the next thing he knew he was down at the bottom of the sea with all the dog-fish worrying and snapping at him--though this was a matter of small consequence, for Lobsterneck was so well shingled that the dog-fishes' teeth could make no impression. A moment later, snorting and spluttering, up bobbed Lobsterneck again, with half-a-dozen of the biggest dog-fish holding on to his tail, while all the rest, leaping out of the water, turned somersaults in the air and barked encouragement. Instead of climbing up the steps of the pier again, so confused was the amiable old snap-dragon by the worrying and the barking and the splashing of the dog-fish, that he made straight for the shore, when, having shaken himself free of his tormentors, he galloped off home to his tower, upon the top of which he presently reappeared, seated on his three-legged stool, drying his scales with his pocket handkerchief. But though Lobsterneck's plan for getting Thomas A'Becket ashore had not turned out exactly as he had intended, it had nevertheless proved entirely successful, for when the raft tilted up and the mast hit the dragon such a crack on the top of his head, the reluctant cat was sent flying through the air, landing on the pier so close to Periwinkle that they almost bumped noses.