I shall not tell you whether she cried at all then. Perhaps you would have cried just a little if you had been in her place. 'Oh dear! oh dear! oh dear!' she said, sniffing slightly. (Perhaps she had a cold.) 'There's nobody to tuck me up in bed--nobody at all.' And just as she said it something fat and furry flew between her and the sunset. It hovered clumsily a moment, and then swooped in at the window. 'Oh!' cried the Princess, very much frightened indeed. 'Don't you know me?' said the stout furry creature, folding its wings. 'I'm the cat you saved from the indignity of a rusty kettle in connection with my honourable tail.' 'But that cat hadn't got wings,' said Everilda, 'and you're much bigger than it, and it couldn't talk.' 'How do you know it couldn't talk,' said the Cat; 'did you ask it?' 'No,' said the Princess. 'Well, then!' said the Cat 'And as for wings, I needn't wear them if you'd rather I didn't.' The Cat took off her wings, rolled them neatly up, like your father rolls his umbrella, tied them round with a piece of string, and put them in the left-hand corner drawer in the bureau. 'That's better,' said Everilda. 'And as for size,' said the Cat, 'if I stayed ordinary cat-size I shouldn't be any use to you. And I've come to be cook, companion, housemaid, nurse, professor, and everything else, so----' 'Oh, don't,' said the Princess--'_don't_ get any bigger.' For while she was speaking the Cat had been growing steadily, and she was now about the size of a large leopard. 'Certainly not,' said the Cat obligingly; 'I'll stop at once.' 'I suppose,' said the Princess timidly, 'that you're magic?' 'Of course,' said the Cat; 'everything is, here. Don't you be afraid of me, now! Come along, my pet, time for bed.' Everilda umped, for the voice was the voice of her nurse; but it was also the voice of the Cat. 'Oh!' cried the Princess, throwing her arms round the cat's large furry neck, 'I'm not afraid of _any_ thing when you speak like that.' So, after all, she had someone to tuck her up in bed. The Cat did it with large, soft, furry, clever paws, and in two minutes Everilda was fast asleep. And now began the long, lonely, but all the same quite happy time which the Princess and the Cat spent together on the Forlorn Island. Everilda had lessons with the Cat--and then it was the Professor's voice that the Cat spoke with; and the two did the neat little housework of the tower together--and then the Cat's voice was like the voices of the palace housemaids. And they did the cooking and then the Cat's voice was the cook's voice. And they played games together--and then the voice of the Cat was like the voices of all sorts of merry children. It was impossible to be dull with a companion who changed so often. 'But who are you _really_?' the Princess used to ask. And the Cat always answered: 'I give it up! Ask another!' as if the Princess had been playing at riddles.