And the Queen followed her into a dirty little room, with only a table
and a long bench in it.
But there was a fine wood fire crackling on the hearth, and before it a
goose was slowly turning on the spit, so that it did not look quite as
dismal as otherwise it might have done.
The Queen sat herself down at the table, and the old woman and the cat
were engaged in sitting on the hearth watching the fire.
They did not seem at all talkative, and so the Queen held her peace.
At last the old woman gave a grunt, for the goose was done, and so she
got up and found a plate and knife and fork, and put them before the
Queen, with the goose on a dish and a large hunk of bread.
"There," she said, "that's all I can give you."
And so, although the food was by no meant as dainty as what she would
have had at home in the palace, the Queen was so remarkably hungry that
she made a much larger meal than she ever remembered to have made.
And all the while the cat sat and stared at her, and seemed to grow
positively bigger with staring so much, though when the Queen held out a
piece of the goose to it, it merely sniffed contemptuously so that the
Queen felt quite humiliated.
"Your cat doesn't seem to be very sociable," she said to the old woman.
And the old woman answered, "Why should he be?" and took up a large twig
broom to sweep the hearth with.
That done, she leant upon it and regarded the Queen malevolently.
"Aren't you ever going to finish?" she said.
The Queen answered, "Well, I was rather hungry, you see; but I've
finished now. There's no great hurry, is there?"
"I want _my_ dinner," the old woman said, with such an emphasis on the
"_my_" that the Queen was quite amused.
"Why, the goose is there; at least, there's some of it left."
"But _I_ don't like goose," the old woman said. Her manner was growing
more and more peculiar.
"Any one would think you were going to eat _me_," the Queen said; and
the cat licked its jaws.
"So I am," the old woman said, and her eyes gleamed.