And she took up the meat and the flannel and the opodeldoc and went into the garden, leaving the Regent with the idea that he had made rather a bad business by becoming the Queen’s attendant. But he was a very determined man, and merely set his teeth the firmer. Under the overhanging rose tree the Queen sat awaiting the bat’s awakening. "It never does to wake him up," she said. "It makes him so bad tempered." So she sat patiently and watched the rose-petals that every now and then fluttered down on the wind. It was well on towards the afternoon, after the Queen had had her dinner, before he awoke. "Oh, you’re there?" he said. He had made the same remark every day for the last two years—which made seven hundred and thirty-one times, one of the years having been leap-year. The Queen said, "Yes, here I am!" The bat yawned. "What’s the weather like?" he asked. The Queen answered, "Oh, it’s very nice, and you promised to tell me the flower that would make me fly." "I shan’t," the bat said. "You’d eat up all the flies—a great thing like you." The Queen’s eyes filled with tears, it was so disappointing. "Oh, I promise I won’t eat _any_ flies," she said; "and I’ll go right away and leave you in peace." The bat said, "Um! there’s something in that." "And look," the Queen continued, "I’ve brought you your meat and flannel, and some stuff that’s good for rheumatism." The bat’s eyes twinkled with delight. "Well, I’ll tell you," he said. "Only you must promise, first, that you won’t tell any one the secret; and secondly, that you won’t eat any flies." "Oh yes, I’ll promise that willingly enough." "Well, put the things up here on the top of the seat and I’ll tell you." The Queen did as she was bidden, and the bat continued— "The flower you want is at this moment being trodden on by your foot." The Queen felt a little startled, but, looking down, saw a delicate white flower that had trailed from a border and was being crushed beneath her small green shoes. "What! the wind-flower?" she said. "I always thought it was only a weed." "You shouldn’t think," the bat said. "It’s as bad as supposing." "Well, and how am I to set about flying?" the Queen asked. And the bat answered sharply, "Why, fly. Put the flower somewhere about you, and then go off. Only be careful not to knock against things." The Queen thought for a moment, and then plucked a handful and a handful and yet a handful of the wind-flowers, and, having twined them into a carcanet, wound them into her soft gold-brown hair, beneath her small crown royal. "Good-bye, dear bat," she said. She had grown to like the bat, for all his strange appearance and surly speeches. The bat remarked, "Good riddance." He was always a little irritable just after awakening. So the Queen went out from under the arbour, and made a first essay at flying.