Periwinkle, himself, strange to say, did not notice the sudden arrival of the Archbishop's cat. With his head in the air and his eyes shut tight, he was barking and barking and barking, having the very best time he ever remembered, when, all of a sudden something sharp stuck into his nose. With a yelp of astonishment, he leaped backwards and opened his eyes, to see standing before him the angry Thomas A'Becket, who, with arched back and distended tail, swore sharply at the unoffending puppy. "Oh!" cried everybody, throwing up their hands in dismay; for such a dreadful breach of the laws had _never_ happened before. "Be cheerful," said law number one; and here was a cat just as angry as a cat could be. "Be polite," said law number two; and here was a cat using language--Tut! Tut! And an archbishop's cat, too. Just think of that! If it had been a curate's cat, or even a vicar's--but, an archbishop's cat! No wonder the poor Archbishop covered his face with his hand and blushed purple with embarrassment. For a full half-minute everyone stood speechless, with hands held up and eyes and mouths wide open, until suddenly the Court Crier, who was the first to recover, began ringing his bell and shouting, "Blue paint! Blue paint!" as loud as he could. Upon this, everybody else shouted, "Blue paint!"--the King and the Admiral and the little Coco Bolos, as well; though Margaret and Frances felt sure that half of them, at least, had no idea what they meant by it, especially as they kept on shouting, "Blue paint!" without ever thinking, seemingly, that it was anybody's business to go and get it. The only one who seemed to be quite unconcerned was the one who had caused all the rumpus: Thomas A'Becket, himself. Calmly seated on the pier, he proceeded to wash his face with his paws, paying no attention at all to the King and his courtiers, who, standing in a circle around him, continued to shout, "Blue paint!" without intermission. How long they might have gone on shouting there is no knowing, had not Margaret interfered. Losing patience, she stepped up to the King, and clapping her hand over his mouth just as he had opened it for another shout--the King almost exploded at being so suddenly "corked"--she stooped and called into his ear: "Why don't you send for your new policeman?" Coco Bolo, with his eyes turned up, waited till Margaret removed her hand, when he took off his crown with a flourish, and bowing politely, said: "That's a capital idea of yours. Why didn't I think of it before?" So saying, he clapped his crown upon his head again and set off running up the middle of the pier, shouting, "Police!" at the top of his voice. Not a single one of the courtiers had the least idea that there was any such thing as a policeman on the island, but they were a well-trained company, and knowing that the first duty of a courtier is to do as the King does, they all set off running, too, shouting, "Police! Police! Police!"