And I wish one could kill all wicked pests as easily as you.

(_She makes a dab with the paper-knife, the wasp escapes._)

Most extraordinary!

(_Relinquishing the pursuit of wasps, she resumes her reading_.)

(_In a little while Mr. John Brown returns, both hands occupied. The
chair he deposits by the tent door, and hitches Mop's "lead" to the back
of that on which the Queen is sitting. With the small beginnings of a
smile she lowers the paper, and looks at him and his accompaniments_.)

QUEEN. Well, Brown? Oh, yes; that's quite a nice one.... I'm sure there's
a wasps' nest somewhere; there are so many of them about.

J.B. Eh, don't fash yourself! Wasps have a way of being aboot this time of
year. It's the fruit they're after.

QUEEN. Yes: like Adam and Eve.

J.B. That's just it, Ma'am.

QUEEN. You'd better take it away, Brown, or cover it; it's too tempting.

J.B. (_removing the fruit_). Ah! Now if God had only done that, maybe
we'd still all be running aboot naked.

QUEEN. I'm glad He didn't, then.