"No," added Frances. "And I don't think it's fair to punish a cat or an archbishop either for breaking laws they never heard of--especially a law that was not made till afterwards." "Sorry," replied the King, with a shake of his head, "but it can't be helped. I'd be glad to let him off, but the law's the law, you know. It makes me weep, Archbishop"--here the King paused and winked at the Court Crier, who hastily snatched a pocket handkerchief out of his caddy-box and shed one tear--"It makes me weep, as you see, Archbishop, but I'm afraid you'll have to be painted blue." "Blue paint! Blue paint!" shouted all the courtiers. "Look here!" cried the Archbishop, rising from his chair and rapping his knuckles on the table. "How can anyone think with such a racket going on? Look here, Coco Bolo!" he continued, when the noise had subsided. "This new policeman of yours has never had any lessons in painting, has he? Well, I object to having any brand-new, blue-gum policeman trying experiments on _me_. I'm the Archbishop of Timbuctoo-and-a-half, am I not? Well--Gracious, goodness!--whoever heard of an archbishop being painted by any but a first-rate artist? It's ridiculous! Perfectly ridiculous! If you want your policeman to practice on somebody, let him practice on the cat. Thomas A'Becket is the one who broke the law first--well, then, paint Thomas A'Becket first!" This sounded so much like good sense that Margaret and Frances clapped their hands; whereupon, all the courtiers, who had just opened their mouths to shout, "Blue paint!" again, changed their minds and clapped their hands instead. As for Coco Bolo, he looked puzzled. He tilted his crown over his eye while he scratched his head, and then of a sudden he set it straight again, and jumping out of his chair, he cried: "I'll tell you what! Look here! Thomas A'Becket is hiding somewhere close by, because we heard him mew just now; so, this is what we'll do. We'll lay a trap for him. We'll set out a saucer of milk on the table and then we'll all go and hide in the bushes and wait for him to come out." It was a pretty good idea--considering what a thick and solid head the King had, it was a very good idea. The saucer was filled, when everybody went tiptoing away; Margaret and Frances and Coco Bolo and the Archbishop going and hiding behind the throne. All was silent, when the little girls, peeping round the end of the throne, saw Thomas A'Becket climb out of the mitre, jump down upon the seat and go walking across the lawn towards the table. "Look out, Thomas!" whispered Margaret. "Look out, or they'll catch you!" The old cat turned his head and shut one eye, as much as to say, "Don't you worry," and walked on, until, having reached the table, he jumped upon it, and settling himself comfortably with his fore-paws tucked under his chest, he began lapping up the milk.