by Phil Edwards
As there seemed to be no chance of getting her hands up to her head, she tried to get her head down to them, and was delighted to find that her neck would bend about easily in any direction, like a serpent. She had just succeeded in curving it down into a graceful zigzag, and was going to dive in among the leaves, which she found to be nothing but the tops of the trees under which she had been wandering, when a sharp hiss made her draw back in a hurry: a large pigeon had flown into her face, and was beating her violently with its wings.
'Serpent!' screamed the Pigeon.
'I'm NOT a serpent!' said Snooki indignantly. 'Let me alone!'
'Serpent, I say again!' repeated the Pigeon, but in a more subdued tone, and added with a kind of sob, 'I've tried every way, and nothing seems to suit them!'
'I haven't the least idea what you're talking about,' said Snooki.
'I've tried the roots of trees, and I've tried banks, and I've tried hedges,' the Pigeon went on, without attending to her; 'but those serpents! There's no pleasing them!'
Snooki was more and more puzzled, but she thought there was no use in saying anything more till the Pigeon had finished.
'As if it wasn't trouble enough hatching the eggs,' said the Pigeon; 'but I must be on the look-out for serpents night and day! Why, I haven't had a wink of sleep these three weeks!'
'I'm very sorry you've been annoyed,' said Snooki, who was beginning to see its meaning.
'And just as I'd taken the highest tree in the wood,' continued the Pigeon, raising its voice to a shriek, 'and just as I was thinking I should be free of them at last, they must needs come wriggling down from the sky! Ugh, Serpent!'
'But I'm NOT a serpent, I tell you!' said Snooki. 'I'm a—I'm a—'
'Well! WHAT are you?' said the Pigeon. 'I can see you're trying to invent something!'
'I—I'm a little guidette,' said Snooki, rather doubtfully, as she remembered the number of changes she had gone through that day.
'A likely story indeed!' said the Pigeon in a tone of the deepest contempt. 'I've seen a good many little guidettes in my time, but never ONE with such a neck as that! No, no! You're a serpent; and there's no use denying it. I suppose you'll be telling me next that you never tasted an egg!'
'I HAVE tasted eggs, certainly,' said Snooki, who was a very truthful guidette; 'but little guidettes eat eggs quite as much as serpents do, you know.'
'I don't believe it,' said the Pigeon; 'but if they do, why then they're a kind of serpent, that's all I can say.'
This was such a new idea to Snooki, that she was quite silent for a minute or two, which gave the Pigeon the opportunity of adding, 'You're looking for eggs, I know THAT well enough; and what does it matter to me whether you're a little guidette or a serpent?'
'It matters a good deal to ME,' said Snooki hastily; 'but I'm not looking for eggs, as it happens; and if I was, I shouldn't want YOURS: I don't like them raw.'
'Well, be off, then!' said the Pigeon in a sulky tone, as it settled down again into its nest. Snooki crouched down among the trees as well as she could, for her neck kept getting entangled among the branches, and every now and then she had to stop and untwist it. After a while she remembered that she still held the pieces of mushroom in her hands, and she set to work very carefully, nibbling first at one and then at the other, and growing sometimes taller and sometimes shorter, until she had succeeded in bringing herself down to her usual height.
It was so long since she had been anything near the right size, that it felt quite strange at first; but she got used to it in a few minutes, and began talking to herself, as usual. 'Come, there's half my plan done now! How puzzling all these changes are! I'm never sure what I'm going to be, from one minute to another! Luckily, my pouf remains. However, I've got back to my right size: the next thing is, to get into that beautiful garden—how IS that to be done, I wonder?' As she said this, she came suddenly upon an open place, with a little house in it about four feet high. 'Whoever lives there,' thought Snooki, 'it'll never do to come upon them THIS size: why, I should frighten them out of their wits!' So she began nibbling at the righthand bit again, and did not venture to go near the house till she had brought herself down to nine inches high.
CHAPTER VI. Pig and Pepper
For a minute or two she stood looking at the house, and wondering what to do next, when suddenly a footman in livery came running out of the wood—(she considered him to be a footman because he was in livery: otherwise, judging by his face only, she would have called him a fish)—and rapped loudly at the door with his knuckles. It was opened by another footman in livery, with a round face, and large eyes like a frog; and both footmen, Snooki noticed, had powdered hair that curled all over their heads. She felt very curious to know what it was all about, and crept a little way out of the wood to listen.
The Fish-Footman began by producing from under his arm a great letter, nearly as large as himself, and this he handed over to the other, saying, in a solemn tone, 'For the Duchess. An invitation from the Queen to play croquet.' The Frog-Footman repeated, in the same solemn tone, only changing the order of the words a little, 'From the Queen. An invitation for the Duchess to play croquet.'
Then they both bowed low, and their curls got entangled together.
Snooki laughed so much at this, that she had to run back into the wood for fear of their hearing her; and when she next peeped out the Fish-Footman was gone, and the other was sitting on the ground near the door, staring stupidly up into the sky.
Snooki went timidly up to the door, and knocked.
'There's no sort of use in knocking,' said the Footman, 'and that for two reasons. First, because I'm on the same side of the door as you are; secondly, because they're making such a noise inside, no one could possibly hear you.' And certainly there was a most extraordinary noise going on within—a constant howling and sneezing, and every now and then a great crash, as if a dish or kettle had been broken to pieces.
'Please, then,' said Snooki, 'how am I to get in?'
'There might be some sense in your knocking,' the Footman went on without attending to her, 'if we had the door between us. For instance, if you were INSIDE, you might knock, and I could let you out, you know.' He was looking up into the sky all the time he was speaking, and this Snooki thought decidedly uncivil. 'But perhaps he can't help it,' she said to herself; 'his eyes are so VERY nearly at the top of his head. But at any rate he might answer questions.—How am I to get in?' she repeated, aloud.
'I shall sit here,' the Footman remarked, 'till tomorrow—'
At this moment the door of the house opened, and a large plate came skimming out, straight at the Footman's head: it just grazed his nose, and broke to pieces against one of the trees behind him.
'—or next day, maybe,' the Footman continued in the same tone, exactly as if nothing had happened.
'How am I to get in?' asked Snooki again, in a louder tone.
'ARE you to get in at all?' said the Footman. 'That's the first question, you know.'
It was, no doubt: only Snooki did not like to be told so. 'It's really dreadful,' she muttered to herself, 'the way all the creatures argue. It's enough to drive one crazy! I much prefer to do the arguing myself!'
The Footman seemed to think this a good opportunity for repeating his remark, with variations. 'I shall sit here,' he said, 'on and off, for days and days.'
'But what am I to do?' said Snooki.
'Anything you like,' said the Footman, and began whistling.
'Oh, there's no use in talking to him,' said Snooki desperately: 'he's perfectly idiotic!' And she opened the door and went in.
The door led right into a large kitchen, which was full of smoke from one end to the other: Angelina, the Duchess of Trashbags, was sitting on a three-legged stool in the middle, nursing a baby; the cook was leaning over the fire, stirring a large cauldron which seemed to be full of pasta.
'There's certainly too much pepper in that pasta!' Snooki said to herself, as well as she could for sneezing.
There was certainly too much of it in the air. Even Duchess Angelina sneezed occasionally. The only things in the kitchen that did not sneeze, were the cook, and a silent man sitting on the hearth and grinning from ear to ear.
'Please would you tell me,' said Snooki, a little timidly, for she was not quite sure whether it was good manners for her to speak first, 'why that man grins like that?'
'It's Vinny,' said the Duchess Angelina, 'and that's why. Pig!'
She said the last word with such sudden violence that Snooki quite jumped; but she saw in another moment that it was addressed to the baby, and not to her, so she took courage, and went on again:—
'I didn't know that Vinny always grinned.'
'He does,' said the Duchess Angelina; 'and does little else.'
'I didn’t know he would be here at all,' Snooki said very politely, feeling quite pleased to have got into a conversation.
'You don't know much,' said the Duchess Angelina; 'and that's a fact.'
Snooki did not at all like the tone of this remark, and thought it would be as well to introduce some other subject of conversation, like Timex watches. While she was trying to fix on one, the cook took the cauldron of pasta off the fire, and at once set to work throwing everything within her reach at the Duchess Angelina and the baby—the fire-irons came first; then followed a shower of saucepans, plates, and dishes. The Duchess Angelina took no notice of them even when they hit her; and the baby was howling so much already, that it was quite impossible to say whether the blows hurt it or not.
'Oh, PLEASE mind what you're doing!' cried Snooki, jumping up and down in an agony of terror. 'Oh, there goes his PRECIOUS nose'; as an unusually large saucepan flew close by it, and very nearly carried it off.
'If everybody minded their own business,' the Duchess Angelina said in a hoarse growl, 'the world would go round a deal faster than it does.'
'Which would NOT be an advantage,' said Snooki, who felt very glad to get an opportunity of showing off a little of her knowledge. 'Just think of what work it would make with the day and night! You see the earth takes twenty-four hours to turn round on its axis—'
'Talking of axes,' said the Duchess Angelina, 'chop off her head!'
Snooki glanced rather anxiously at the cook, to see if she meant to take the hint; but the cook was busily stirring the pasta, and seemed not to be listening, so she went on again: 'Twenty-four hours, I THINK; or is it twelve? I—'
'Oh, don't bother ME,' said the Duchess Angelina; 'I never could abide figures!' And with that she began nursing her child again, singing a sort of lullaby to it as she did so, and giving it a violent shake at the end of every line:
'Speak roughly to your little boy,
And beat him when he sneezes:
He only does it to annoy,
Because he knows it teases.'
CHORUS.
(In which the cook and the baby joined):—
'Wow! wow! wow!'
While the Duchess Angelina sang the second verse of the song, she kept tossing the baby violently up and down, and the poor little thing howled so, that Snooki could hardly hear the words:—
'I speak severely to my boy,
I beat him when he sneezes;
For he can thoroughly enjoy
The pepper when he pleases!'
CHORUS.
'Wow! wow! wow!'
'Here! you may nurse it a bit, if you like!' the Duchess Angelina said to Snooki, flinging the baby at her as she spoke. 'I must go and get ready to play croquet with the Queen,' and she hurried out of the room. The cook threw a frying-pan after her as she went out, but it just missed her.
Snooki caught the baby with some difficulty, as it was a queer-shaped little creature, and held out its arms and legs in all directions, 'just like a drunken guidette after last call,' thought Snooki. The poor little thing was snorting like a steam-engine when she caught it, and kept doubling itself up and straightening itself out again, so that altogether, for the first minute or two, it was as much as she could do to hold it.
As soon as she had made out the proper way of nursing it, (which was to twist it up into a sort of knot, and then keep tight hold of its right ear and left foot, so as to prevent its undoing itself,) she carried it out into the open air. 'IF I don't take this child away with me,' thought Snooki, 'they're sure to kill it in a day or two: wouldn't it be murder to leave it behind?' She said the last words out loud, and the little thing grunted in reply (it had left off sneezing by this time). 'Don't grunt,' said Snooki; 'that's not at all a proper way of expressing yourself. Not until you’re grown up and at the gym, at least.'…
The baby grunted again, and Snooki looked very anxiously into its face to see what was the matter with it. There could be no doubt that it had a VERY turn-up nose, much more like a snout than a real nose; also its eyes were getting extremely small for a baby: altogether Snooki did not like the look of the thing at all. 'But perhaps it was only sobbing,' she thought, and looked into its eyes again, to see if there were any tears.
No, there were no tears. 'If you're going to turn into a pig, my dear,' said Snooki, seriously, 'I'll have nothing more to do with you. Mind now!' The poor little thing sobbed again (or grunted, it was impossible to say which), and they went on for some while in silence.
Snooki was just beginning to think to herself, 'Now, what am I to do with this creature when I get it home?' when it grunted again, so violently, that she looked down into its face in some alarm. She had thought it was a young juice head, but it seemed queerer now. This time there could be NO mistake about it: it was neither more nor less than a pig, and she felt that it would be quite absurd for her to carry it further.
So she set the little creature down, and felt quite relieved to see it trot away quietly into the wood. 'If it had grown up,' she said to herself, 'it would have made a dreadfully ugly juice head: but it makes rather a handsome pig, I think.' And she began thinking over other juice heads she knew, who might do very well as pigs, and was just saying to herself, 'if one only knew the right way to change them—' when she was a little startled by seeing the Vinny sitting on a bough of a tree a few yards off.
Vinny only grinned when he saw Snooki. It looked good-natured, she thought.
'Vincent,' she began, rather timidly, as she did not at all know whether it would like the name: however, it only grinned a little wider. 'Come, it's pleased so far,' thought Snooki, and she went on. 'Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?'
'That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,' said Vinny.
'I don't much care where—' said Snooki.
'Then it doesn't matter which way you go,' said Vinny.
'—so long as I get SOMEWHERE,' Snooki added as an explanation.
'Oh, you're sure to do that,' said Vinny, 'if you only walk long enough.'
Snooki felt that this could not be denied, so she tried another question. 'What sort of Italians live about here?'
'In THAT direction,' Vinny said, waving his right hand round, 'lives a man of great abdominals: and in THAT direction,' waving the other hand, 'lives a March of Gelled Hair. Visit either you like: they're both mad.'
'But I don't want to go among mad people,' Snooki remarked.
'Oh, you can't help that,' said Vinny: 'we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad.'
'How do you know I'm mad?' said Snooki.
'You must be,' said Vinny, 'or you wouldn't have come here.'
Snooki didn't think that proved it at all; however, she went on 'And how do you know that you're mad?'
'To begin with,' said Vinny, 'an accountant's not mad. You grant that?'
'I suppose so,' said Snooki.
'Well, then,' Vinny went on, 'you see, an accountant sleeps in the night and works in the day. Now I sleep in the day and work in the night. Therefore I'm mad.'
'I call it partying, not working,' said Snooki.
'Call it what you like,' said Vinny. 'Do you play croquet with the Queen to-day?'
> 'I should like it very much,' said Snooki, 'but I haven't been invited yet.'
'You'll see me there,' said Vinny, and vanished.
Snooki was not much surprised at this, she was getting so used to queer things happening. While she was looking at the place where it had been, it suddenly appeared again.
'By-the-bye, what became of the baby?' said Vinny. 'I'd nearly forgotten to ask.'
'It turned into a pig,' Snooki quietly said, just as if it had come back in a natural way.
'I thought it would,' said Vinny, and vanished again...
Snooki waited a little, half expecting to see him again, but he did not appear, and after a minute or two she walked on in the direction in which the March of Gelled Hair was said to live. 'I've seen juice heads with abdominals before,' she said to herself; 'the March of Gelled Hair will be much the most interesting, and perhaps as this is May it won't be raving mad—at least not so mad as it was in March.' As she said this, she looked up, and there was Vinny again, sitting on a branch of a tree.
'Did you say pig, or fig?' said Vinny.
'I said pig,' replied Snooki; 'and I wish you wouldn't keep appearing and vanishing so suddenly: you make one quite giddy.'
'All right,' said Vinny; and this time it vanished quite slowly, beginning with his designer shirt, and ending with the grin, which remained some time after the rest of it had gone.
'Well! I've often seen Vinny without a grin,' thought Snooki; 'but a grin without Vinny! It's the most curious thing I ever saw in my life!'
She had not gone much farther before she came in sight of the house of the March of Gelled Hair: she thought it must be the right house, because the chimneys were shaped like ears and the roof was thatched with blown out hair. It was so large a house, that she did not like to go nearer till she had nibbled some more of the lefthand bit of mushroom, and raised herself to about two feet high: even then she walked up towards it rather timidly, saying to herself 'Suppose it should be raving mad after all! I almost wish I'd gone to see the juice head instead!'
