“Oh, what good children！” said the Queen.
“Perhaps she’s the nie after all,” thought Jill.
“Yes indeed,” said the King. “Quite excellent children. We wele you to our cive me your hands.”
He stretched down his great right hand — very and with any number s on the fingers, but also with terrible pointed nails. He was much too big to shake the hands which the children, in turn, held up to him; but he shook the arms.
“And what’s that?” asked the King, pointing to Puddleglum.
“Reshpeckobiggle,” said Puddleglum.
“Oh！” screamed the Queen, gathering her skirts clo about her ankles. “The horrid thing！ It’s alive.”
“He’s quite all right, your Majesty, really, he is,” said Scrubb hastily. “You’ll like him much better when you get to know him. I’m sure you will.”
I hope you won’t lo all i in Jill for the rest of the book if I tell you that at this moment she began to cry. There was a good deal of excu for her. Her feet and hands and ears and no were still only just beginning to thaw; melted snow was trig off her clothes; she had had hardly anything to eat or drink that day; and her legs were ag so that she felt she could not go on standing much longer. Anyway, it did mood at the moment than anything el would have done, for the Queen said： “Ah, the poor child！ My lord, we d to keep uests standing. Quick, some of you！ Take them away. Give them food and wine and baths. fort the little girl. Give her lollipops, give her dolls, give her physics, give her all you think of — posts and fits and caraways and lullabies and toys. Don’t cry, little girl, or you won’t be good for anything when the feast es.”
“Oh, what good children！” said the Queen.
“Perhaps she’s the nie after all,” thought Jill.
“Yes indeed,” said the King. “Quite excellent children. We wele you to our cive me your hands.”
He stretched down his great right hand — very and with any number s on the fingers, but also with terrible pointed nails. He was much too big to shake the hands which the children, in turn, held up to him; but he shook the arms.
“And what’s that?” asked the King, pointing to Puddleglum.
“Reshpeckobiggle,” said Puddleglum.
“Oh！” screamed the Queen, gathering her skirts clo about her ankles. “The horrid thing！ It’s alive.”
“He’s quite all right, your Majesty, really, he is,” said Scrubb hastily. “You’ll like him much better when you get to know him. I’m sure you will.”
I hope you won’t lo all i in Jill for the rest of the book if I tell you that at this moment she began to cry. There was a good deal of excu for her. Her feet and hands and ears and no were still only just beginning to thaw; melted snow was trig off her clothes; she had had hardly anything to eat or drink that day; and her legs were ag so that she felt she could not go on standing much longer. Anyway, it did mood at the moment than anything el would have done, for the Queen said： “Ah, the poor child！ My lord, we d to keep uests standing. Quick, some of you！ Take them away. Give them food and wine and baths. fort the little girl. Give her lollipops, give her dolls, give her physics, give her all you think of — posts and fits and caraways and lullabies and toys. Don’t cry, little girl, or you won’t be good for anything when the feast es.”