Unnatural Creatures

“Does it eat anything besides lessons?”

“Christmas pudding. But, there—what’s the use of talking? That bird would laugh if it were fed on dog biscuits and senna tea.”

His Majesty sighed and passed the buttered toast.

“You can’t possibly,” he went on, “have any idea of the kind of things that happen. The bird laughed one day at a Cabinet Council, and all my Ministers turned into little boys in yellow smocks. And we can’t get any laws made till they come right again. It’s not their fault—and I must keep their situation open for them, of course, poor things.”

“Of course,” said Matilda.

“There was the dragon, now,” said the King. “When he came I offered the Princess’s hand and half my kingdom to anyone who would kill him; it’s an offer that’s always made, you know.”

“Yes,” said Matilda.

“Well—a really respectable young Prince came along—and everyone turned out to see him fight the dragon; as much as ninepence each was paid for the front seats, I assure you, and the trumpets sounded, and the dragon came hurrying up. A trumpet is like a dinner bell to a dragon, you know. And the Prince drew his bright sword, and we all shouted, and then that wretched bird laughed, and the dragon turned into a pu**ycat, and the Prince killed it before he could stop himself. The populace was furious.”

“What happened then?” asked Matilda.

“Well, I did what I could. I said, ‘You shall marry the Princess, just the same.’ So I brought the Prince home, and when we got there the Cockatoucan had just been laughing again, and the Princess had turned into a very old German governess. The Prince went home in a great hurry and an awful temper. The Princess was all right in a day or two. These are trying times, my dear.”

“I am so sorry for you,” said Matilda, going on with the preserved ginger.

“Well you may be,” said the miserable monarch. “Why, if I were to try to tell you all that that bird has brought on my poor kingdom I should keep you up till long past your proper bedtime.”

“I don’t mind,” said Matilda, kindly. “Do tell me some more.”

“Why,” the King went on, growing more and more agitated. “Why—at one titter from that revolting bird the long row of ancestors on my palace wall grew red-faced and vulgar; they began to drop their H’s and to assert that their name was Smith, from Clapham Junction.”

“How dreadful!”

“And once,” the King went on, in a whisper, “it laughed so loudly that two Sundays came together, and next Thursday got lost and went prowling away and hid itself on the other side of Christmas. And now,” he said, suddenly, “it’s bedtime.”

“Must I go?” asked Matilda.

“Yes, please,” said the King. “I tell all strangers this tragic story because I always feel that perhaps some stranger might be clever enough to help me. You seem a very nice little girl: do you think you are clever?”

It is very nice even to be asked if you’re clever. Your Aunt Willoughby knows well enough that you’re not. But Kings do say nice things. Matilda was very pleased.

“I don’t think I’m clever,” she was saying, quite honestly, when suddenly the sound of a hoarse laugh rang through the banqueting hall. Matilda put her hands to her head.

“Oh, dear,” she cried. “I feel so different! Oh, wait a minute! Oh, whatever is it? Oh!”

She was silent for a moment. Then she looked at the King and said: “I was wrong, Your Majesty. I am clever, and I know it is not good for me to sit up late. Good night. Thank you so much for your nice party. In the morning I think I shall be clever enough to help you, unless the bird laughs me back into the other kind of Matilda.”

But in the morning Matilda’s head still felt strangely clear. Only, when she came down to breakfast, full of plans for helping the King, she found that the Cockatoucan must have laughed in the night, for the beautiful palace had turned into a butcher’s shop, and the King, who was too wise to fight against fate, had tucked up his Royal robes, and was busy in the shop weighing out six ounces of the best mutton chops for a charwoman with a basket.

“I don’t know how ever you can help me now,” he said, despairing. “As long as the palace stays like this, it’s no use trying to go on with being a King, or anything. I can only try to be a good butcher, and you shall keep the shop accounts, if you like, till that bird laughs me back into my palace again.”

So the King settled down to business, respected by his subjects, who had all, since the coming of the Cockatoucan, had their little ups and downs. And Matilda kept the books and wrote out the bills, and really they were both rather happy. Pridmore, disguised as the Automatic Machine, stood in the shop, and attracted many customers. They used to bring their children and make the poor innocents put their pennies in, and then read Pridmore’s good advice. Some parents are so harsh. And the Princess sat in the back garden with the Cockatoucan, and Matilda played with her every afternoon. But one day, as the King was driving through another kingdom, the King of that kingdom looked out of his palace window and laughed as the cart went by, and shouted “Butcher.” The Butcher-King did not mind this, because it was true, however rude. But when the other King called out, “What price cat’s meat?” the King was very angry indeed, because the meat he sold was always of the best quality. When he told Matilda all about it, she said:

“Send the army to crush him.”

So the King sent his army, and the enemy was crushed. The bird laughed the King back onto his throne, and laughed away the butcher’s shop, just in time for His Majesty to proclaim a general holiday, and to organize a magnificent reception for the army. Matilda now helped the King to manage everything, and she wonderfully enjoyed the new and delightful feeling of being clever. So that she felt it was indeed too bad when the Cockatoucan laughed—just as the reception was beautifully arranged. It laughed, and the general holiday turned into a new income tax; the magnificent reception changed itself to a Royal reprimand, and the army itself suddenly became a discontented Sunday-school treat, and had to be fed with buns and brought home in breaks, crying.

“Something must be done,” said the King.

“Well,” said Matilda, “I’ve been thinking. If you make me the Princess’s governess, I’ll see what I can do. I’m quite clever enough—”