when I was walking in a grassy lane I met a little, old
queen, who was fanning herself with the leaf of the
poor-man's-weather-glass; she had taken off her crown, and it was
lying on the top of a lovely red mushroom. I poked the mushroom
with my parasol, and instantly felt on my face a faint puff of
air, and heard a hum no louder than the buzz of an angry fly.

I sat down on the grass, and then my eyes fell on the queen.

"You have let my crown fall in the dirt," she said, tossing a
wisp of hair from her forehead; "but you great, insensible beings
are always in mischief when you are in the country. Why don't
you stay at home, in your brick cages that stand on heaps of
flat stones? You are watched there all the time by creatures with
clubs in their leather belts, so you cannot tear and crush things
to pieces as you do here."

"Oh, I am so sorry, madam," I answered; "if you knew how unhappy
I felt this morning when I started on my last walk, you would
pity me. I must go home at once, and my home is in the city--shut
in by houses before and behind it. If I look out of the window,
I only see a strip of sky above me, where neither sun nor moon
passes on its journey round the world; and below me, only the
stone pavement over which goes an endless procession of men and
women, upon a hundred errands I never guess at."

The queen tapped her head with a white stick like a peeled twig,
and made such a noise that I examined it, and saw an ivory knob,
which reminded me of the budding horns of a young deer. As if in
answer to my thought, she said: