Mrs. Bunny leaned into the hole and took aim. She could be queen!
The fox was so frightened he turned his head and threw up all over his nice plaid pants.
“Oh dear,” said Mrs. Bunny faintly. “That was messy.”
She jumped down the hole and untangled his tail from where it had caught on the root. “Run!” she said quietly. “Run.”
The fox took one short, scathing look at her and, with a “So long, sucker,” dashed off down his tunnel.
Mrs. Bunny climbed out of the hole. She was sweaty and dirty and her fur was in disarray. The hedgehogs sat on horseback in a circle around the hole, glaring down at her. Mrs. Bunny was so fed up she had the strength of ten bunnies. She looked defiantly at all those high-up-on-the-social-ladder hedgehogs, broke the gun in half and shoved the pieces down the hole.
“I think you’re all cracked,” she said. “Come on, Mr. Bunny. Let us find a good B and B.”
Later that evening at the British Bunny B and B, Mr. and Mrs. Bunny were soaking their feet in lavender water. Mr. Bunny did not like the scent but told Mrs. Bunny he was willing to put up with anything if she would just refrain from telling the story of the time she almost shot a fox. Six times was too many.
“Seven’s a charm,” said Mrs. Bunny, who became more saintly with each retelling. In the seventh she planned to put in a bit where bunnies, hearing her tale, erected shrines to her up and down the countryside, where they would leave carrots and other choice vegetation. She was particularly fond of this part and was enthusiastically relating it to Mr. Bunny when she was interrupted by Mrs. Treaclebunny, who had just arrived and was heard below having a loud argument with the landlady about the room rate.
“Drat that woman,” said Mr. Bunny. “Can we never lose her even for one night?”
“I suppose,” said Mrs. Bunny to Mrs. Treaclebunny as she popped her head into the Bunnys’ room without knocking, “that you aren’t too pleased with me right now.”
“Aw, I was getting sick of wearing quills anyway,” said Mrs. Treaclebunny, who hopped in as Mrs. Bunny was adjusting the fire and took over her chair. “Not to mention the food on the hunt. Does nobody know the proper way to use a brazier? And sleeping in tents is not all it is cracked up to be.”
“The duchess, then. She wasn’t too pleased, I take it.”
“All in a day’s work for a duchess, that’s her attitude. There was a certain amount of grumbling, of course, along the lines of what can you expect from Canadians. Horrible snobs, hedgehogs.”
“Duh,” said Mr. Bunny.
“Oh, and they did mention that now you’ll never be queen. They’ll be sure to see to that.”
“I thought as much,” said Mrs. Bunny, and a tear dripped down her cheek.
“Stuff and nonsense,” said Mr. Bunny. “How do they figure it’s all up to them?”
“That’s on their family crest. Right beside No Problems, No Dilemmas, Many Hedges. It’s All Up to Us. And, of course, they made me give back our titles. And they didn’t even give us a refund.”
“Oh no,” said Mrs. Bunny. “And mine hadn’t even arrived yet!” And then she remembered something else. “And I forgot to take Mr. Bunny’s admiral hat with us!”
“All in all, the whole thing was a colossal waste of money, just as I said from the start. It is just as well you didn’t bring the hat, Mrs. Bunny,” said Mr. Bunny. “I would never have worn it anyway.”
“So you say,” said Mrs. Bunny under her breath. She wondered if she could find him one in a shipboard gift store on the journey home.
“Anyhow, I was getting tired of the fox hunt. All that jumping things on horseback. It rattles your insides. Bad for the kidneys, that’s what I say.”
“And here I thought you were hunting hedges,” said Mrs. Bunny.
“Hunting hedges? You don’t hunt hedges. You steal hedges. Now, what are we doing after dinner? I’ve loads of energy still. We’ve done practically no sightseeing. And I’ve a list right here of enticing tourist traps. If we hurry we can knock off seven or eight by sundown.”
For the first time in their acquaintance, Mr. Bunny silently led Mrs. Treaclebunny to the hall and shut the door behind her. Then he locked it. Then he went to bed. Mrs. Bunny followed shortly after.
It was very quiet in the room.
Mrs. Bunny was not sure what mood had befallen Mr. Bunny. Was he miffed at being left out of her tales of bunny sainthood? She supposed she could always put him in as a kind of Sancho Panza bunny figure. She had a feeling, though, he would not be satisfied to be cast as such. Should she ask him what ailed him? No. After many years of marriage she knew sometimes ignorance was bliss. “Would you like a chocolate biscuit?” she asked instead.
“No.”
“They have some plain ones too in this tin by the bed.”
“I would like some sleep.”
“Well. It’s been a long day. A long, still-not-a-queen day. Oh my,” she sighed.
Mr. Bunny did not try to console her. His eyes were squeezed shut. Nope, no help for me there tonight, she thought.
“Well, anyhow, bunny pals forever?” she ventured.
Mr. Bunny put his paw in hers, and perhaps he was merely tired, for soon they were both in such deep slumber there was no room for dreams.
Mrs. Bunny woke up later in the night and ate three chocolate biscuits. She found sainthood gave her a tremendous appetite. And she approved of cookies by the bed. It was one thing the British got right. “We shall keep that in the repertoire,” she said sleepily to herself, and in minutes was back asleep.
It was on day eight. At two o’clock exactly. The shoppe was packed as usual. Mr. and Mrs. Bunny were perspiring freely among the knees.
“What is the dewiness that is the opposite of failure?” asked Mr. Bunny.
“Mr. Bunny, you know how I feel about riddles,” said Mrs. Bunny.
“I’ll give you a clue. Not flop sweat but …”
“HOP sweat!” said Mrs. Bunny, demonstrating by hopping up to stick a label on another departing bag. “HAHAHAHAHA!” She did not like to encourage Mr. Bunny in his riddledom, but even she recognized a good one when she heard it. Just as she was on her fifth ha, she heard the till slam closed and Flo shouted, “THAT’S IT! We did it! Converted from pounds, we’ve made thirty thousand dollars! And not a minute too soon. Our ship sails at the end of the week. Let’s close the shoppe!”
“NO!” shouted all the unserved customers. “Not fair! Our turn!”
“Really, Flo,” said Mildred. “It wouldn’t hurt to have a little extra.…”
“Oh no,” said Flo. “We’re not going shipboard shopping. We’re not doing that again.”
“No, but certainly we need transport to the ship and from the ship to Hornby when we get back to Victoria,” said Mildred.
“Oh. Right. But after we earn that, we are done. You know what that means, don’t you?” asked Flo.
“College!” said Madeline.
“Veggies for the people!” said Mildred.
“No, man, I mean, for the cats! The cats!” said Flo.
So, though jubilant and exhausted, they kept the shoppe open for the rest of the day.
There was a party atmosphere for the last few hours in the shoppe. Somehow reporters had already found out about its closing. Headlines read, “Owner Says Now the Cats Have a Chance!”
At five o’clock, just as the Bunnys thought their paws were going to give out, the door tinkled one last time and in came Starlight Heavens, Alfred and Ermintrude.
“Hey, Starlight, candy on the house,” said Flo. “We made our thirty thousand and we’re splitting.”
“I’m going to college!” said Madeline. She wasn’t saying this to Starlight specifically. She’d been repeating it happily like a mantra all day in the shoppe. She couldn’t seem to stop.
“Oh, this was to make you money for college, was it, dear? I must say I knew Canadian colleges were cheap. I didn’t know they were that cheap. I suppose it reflects the leve
l of education.”
Mildred was busy closing up the shoppe, so she handed Madeline the mail to open. Madeline tried to ignore Ermintrude, who was explaining in detail what made Oxford superior to Harvard. After all, what did Madeline care? She would go somewhere to college now. That was all she wanted.
Madeline came to a thick cream envelope. “What’s this?” she asked.
“If it’s some lawyer telling us someone left us another business, forget it,” said Flo. “I’ve been working steady the whole month of August. I need a year’s break at least.”
“It’s not a letter from a lawyer. It’s … it’s from Queen Elizabeth!” said Madeline.
“Oh man, first Prince Charles comes to Comox, then the queen starts writing us. Why won’t those people leave us alone?” said Flo.
“Why, we’re invited to a tea party with her,” said Madeline.
“Gack. That’s why social excuses were invented,” said Flo. “Tell her, like, we have a dentist appointment that day.”
“You’re invited to a tea party with the queen?” said Starlight, grabbing the invitation out of Madeline’s hand and reading it herself. “YOU?”
“Why, yes,” said Madeline. “She says here that our magical-candy making has uplifted the British people’s spirits.”
“Hey, it was just synchronicity and the universe, man,” said Flo. “Like, we can’t really take credit.”
“Oh, yes we can,” said Madeline and Katherine.
“Besides,” said Katherine. “Prince Charles has already met Madeline. He gave her her awards when he came to our school’s graduation ceremony. He talked to her more than anyone!”
“Oh really?” said Ermintrude nastily. “But I suppose you can’t remember exactly what he said?”
“He admired my shoes,” said Madeline.
“But, of course, you can’t go,” said Ermintrude, pretending to ooze sympathy. “Your parents are going to pretend to have a dentist appointment.”
“Nonsense,” said Madeline, looking Ermintrude in the eye. “We wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world.”
Then, catching sight of the Bunnys in the corner grinning, she smiled right back. But she wasn’t the only one to see the grinning Bunnys this time.
“There’s a couple of rabbits smiling over there!” said Ermintrude.
“No, there’s not,” said Starlight Heavens, and hustled her children out of the shoppe.
“But I saw them too!” said Alfred as they walked to their car.
“No, you didn’t!” said Starlight Heavens. “Our sort doesn’t see smiling rabbits. What has gotten into you? That’s what you get from rubbing elbows with the riffraff.”
“But they’re having tea with the queen. Why don’t we ever get to have tea with the queen?”
“Oh, put a sock in it,” said Starlight.
And that was that.
The next day everyone went out and bought appropriate tea party clothes. At the suggestion of the dress shoppe owner, Mildred, Katherine and Madeline bought large gaudy hats as well. Fortunately, Mrs. Treaclebunny and Mrs. Bunny had packed hats.
“How I do wish Mr. Bunny could wear his admiral’s hat,” bemoaned Mrs. Bunny.
“Oh well, the men don’t wear hats at these things,” said Mrs. Treaclebunny. “It’s mostly just the women.”
“I’m sure the admirals wear hats,” said Mrs. Bunny.
“Mr. Bunny is not an admiral,” said Mrs. Treaclebunny. “We none of us have titles now, nor will we. Thanks to you know who.”
This was really very cruel and Mrs. Bunny began to cry. Mr. Bunny, who was putting on his tuxedo and trying to stuff in the errant tufts of fur, came at a run.
“I’m very happy that Madeline is to go to college,” said Mrs. Bunny, sniffling. “I am so happy about that that I feel very selfish, but I did so want to come home a … a … queen.”
“Well, well, you are meeting one,” said Mr. Bunny, patting her on the back. “You will have to be content with that.”
“It is not the same,” sobbed Mrs. Bunny. “It is not the same at all.”
“Mrs. Bunny, we have to go in ten minutes,” said Mr. Bunny. “Please refrain from dripping on my cummerbund.”
Mrs. Bunny recovered herself enough that when Madeline and Katherine came to collect them at the B and B, you could not tell that Mrs. Bunny had been crying. She had a damp patch or two of fur. That was all.
“Here, dears,” said Mrs. Bunny. “I was going to give you these when the ship landed as end-of-summer presents but I thought you could use them today.”
She gave each girl a shawl knitted from used dental floss.
“I knit them in the evenings.”
“Oh, thank you,” said Madeline. “What are these little orange things? Beadwork? Oh. Carrot bits.”
Katherine said nothing but stared bug-eyed at her shawl.
She must be so grateful she is at a loss for words, thought Mrs. Bunny happily.
When they reached Buckingham Palace they were startled to find the grounds covered with people in tea party clothes.
“Well!” said Mrs. Bunny. “I rather thought we were having a private audience. But the queen seems to have invited a great many people to this little shindig of hers. Surely they haven’t all contributed to Britain’s high spirits. The British didn’t look that ecstatic to me. We’ll never meet the queen at this rate. Why, she could be anywhere in this crowd.”
“That’s why it pays to be knee-high,” said Mrs. Treaclebunny. “We’ll cut through these nebbishy sorts in no time, case the joint, find the royal mucky-mucks and come back for this lot.” She cocked her head at Mildred, Flo, Madeline and Katherine, who were looking around with stunned expressions. “No sense waiting for Queen Elizabeth to come to you—go to Queen Elizabeth, that’s what I always say. Then have a few scones and chompies and head home. Come on. Hop to it, you two.”
Mrs. Treaclebunny was right. Because they could hop about beneath and between the crowd, they quickly located the queen. She was standing with Prince Philip, Prince Charles and somebody whose job seemed to be to usher people in and out of her royal presence.
“That’s the majordomo,” said Mrs. Treaclebunny knowledgeably.
The bunnies raced back to get Madeline and Katherine, who had no trouble steering Flo and Mildred in the direction of the queen. But when they got there they found that the majordomo paid no attention to them at all. Even when Mr. Bunny bit him slightly on the ankle.
“Stop that,” hissed Mrs. Bunny. “Do you want to get us thrown out?”
“I’m just trying to get his attention,” said Mr. Bunny, biting the majordomo again. But he didn’t even look down.
They all drifted around shyly for half an hour after that, always close to the royals and the majordomo, while other people were selected and brought over to the queen.
Then a little bell rang. It was time for everyone to make for the tents for refreshments. The majordomo began to steer the royals away.
“Well, that’s that,” said Madeline. But just as Prince Charles was moving off, he stopped. He turned and gave Madeline and Katherine a long and searching look.
Then he headed toward them.
“He remembers me!” whispered Madeline to Katherine.
“I say,” said Prince Charles. “I was just admiring your shawls. You know, I saw a very similar pair of shoes once. Knitted by a rabbit out of used dental floss.”
The majordomo followed Prince Charles. At this last remark he rolled his eyes. Could they never get the prince to keep his yap shut?
“Sir, perhaps you would like to move toward the tent,” he said.
“Oh yes, do let me take you over to meet Their Majesties,” said Prince Charles to the girls.
“And my mother and father,” said Madeline, grabbing Flo and Mildred, who were drifting about overwhelmed by the crowd.
“And our rabbit friends,” said Madeline, looking down. “I was the girl in the dental floss shoes. And Mrs. Bunny knit them. She’s right he
re. And this is Mr. Bunny and Mrs. Treaclebunny.”
Prince Charles looked down. “How delightful! I’ve always been a big fan of your work,” he said to Mrs. Bunny, reaching down to shake her paw.
Mrs. Bunny blushed and blushed and Mr. Bunny, for once, was at a loss for words. He was never surprised that he himself appreciated Mrs. Bunny, but he was quite astonished when anyone else did.
They moved as a group over to the queen, where the majordomo made the formal introduction.
“The royalty are seeing rabbits,” whispered Flo to Mildred. “Is it okay to see rabbits when royalty sees them too?”
“No,” hissed Mildred. “Don’t you get it? Us seeing royalty seeing rabbits is part of our flashback.”
“Heavy,” said Flo.
When she got in front of the queen, Mildred forgot to curtsy but she did manage a stuttered, “Y-you’re the queen!”
“So I’ve been told,” said Queen Elizabeth.
Flo alone retained his savoir faire, stuck out his hand and said, “I once had a dog named Elizabeth!”
Madeline and Katherine were introduced next and they both remembered to curtsy, although they could think of nothing to say. For years afterward Katherine would wake up in the middle of the night remembering that she once met the queen of England and all she could do was make gulping noises.
Mrs. Treaclebunny was completely agog when it came her turn. All her normal superiority had left her when faced with a real queen. “Oh, how I wish my poor nothing-left-but-the-desiccated-liver husband could be here for this!” she exclaimed.
Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip stared at her blankly.
“I hate it when Charles invites these ventriloquist acts to these things,” Prince Philip hissed to the queen. “The thing I can’t figure out is which one of them is making it talk. Can’t we have a rule about no more puppets?”
Mr. Bunny muscled up and said, “Charmed, charmed. Now if you could just point us in the direction of the tea cakes? I hear there are some very nice jammy ones. Quite a spread you put on here, quite a spread.”
Mrs. Bunny watched all the others go before her. She did not know what she would do when she advanced in front of the queen, but she had certainly better think of something to redeem their party. What should she say? Something sophisticated. Something intelligent and arresting. Something to forever impress upon Her Majesty the suave wit of the rabbit. When it was her turn she hopped forward and did a little hop-curtsy. And then, before she was even aware of it, her mouth opened and what came out was “BUT I WANT TO BE QUEEN!”
Lord and Lady Bunny—Almost Royalty! Page 16
