e elsewhere
had it not been that everybody was looking.

The wood-pigeon came to the hawthorn, some little way from the castle;
he represented, and was the chief of those pigeons who dwelt peacefully
in Kapchack's kingdom, although aliens by race. His position was
difficult in the extreme, for upon the one hand he knew full well that
Kapchack was suspicious of him lest he should go over to Choo Hoo, and
might at any moment order his destruction, and upon the other hand he
had several messages from Choo Hoo calling upon him to join his
brethren, the invaders, on pain of severe punishment. Uncertain as to
his fate, the wood-pigeon perched on the hawthorn at the skirt of the
council place, hoping from thence to get some start if obliged to flee
for his life. The dove, his friend, constant in misfortune, sat near him
to keep him in countenance.

The humble-bee, the bee, the butterfly, the cricket, the grasshopper,
the beetle, and many others arrived as the hour drew on. Last of all
came Ki Ki, lord of all the hawks, attended with his retinue, and
heralding the approach of the king. Ki Ki perched on a tree at the side
of the pollard, and his warriors ranged themselves around him: a
terrible show, at which the mouse verily shrank into the ground.
Immediately afterwards a noise of wings and talking announced the
arrival of Kapchack, who came in full state, with eight of his finest
guards. The king perched on the top of the pollard, just over the owl's
window, and the eight magpies sat above and around, but always behind
him.

"What an ugly old fellow he is!" whispered Bevis, who had never before
seen him. "Look at his ragged tail!"

"Hush!" said the squirrel, "Te-te is too near."

"Are they all here?" asked the king, after he had looked round and
received the bows and lowly obeisance of his subjects.

"They are all here," said the owl, sitting in his porch. "They are all
here--at least, I think; no, they are not, your majesty."

"Who is absent?" said Kapchack, frowning, and all the assembly cowered.

"It is the weasel," said the owl. "The weasel is not here."

Kapchack frowned and looked as black as thunder, and a dead silence fell
upon the council.

"If it please your majesty," said the humble-bee, presently coming to
the front. "If it please your majesty, the weasel----"

"It does _not_ please me," said Kapchack.

But the humble-bee began again: "If it please your majesty----"

"His majesty is _not_ pleased,"