But before he could speak, the Audience got up.

"You shall not say a word. It must end happily."

He went to the mantel-piece and took up the
China-girl-rising-out-of-a-pen-wiper.

"Why, she has legs after all," said he.

"They're false," said the Cat-made-of-worsted. "They're false. I know
it. I'm fifty years old. I never saw true ones on her."

The Audience paid no attention, but took up the
Boy-leaning-against-a-greyhound.

"Ha!" said the Cat-made-of-worsted. "Come. I like this. He's hollow.
They're all hollow. He! he! Neighbor Monk, you're hollow. He! he!" and
the Cat-made-of-worsted never stopped grinning. The Audience lifted the
glass case from him and set it over the Boy-leaning-against-a-greyhound
and the China-girl-rising-out-of-a-pen-wiper.

"Be happy!" said he.

"Happy!" said the Cat-made-of-worsted. "Happy!"

Still they were happy.