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."