exact, one eye and a corner. She did not wholly trust the Executioner perhaps.
"There ought to be mourners about, surely, when a Queen is done in!" she observed. "Here, Venus, you lazy fat thing, come and mourn. You can do that much for your living, surely."
Venus came over, smiled foolishly, and licked the Royal nose.
"Stop it, you Ass," said the Queen. "You've got to mourn, I tell you, not giggle. Lie down, and look as though you have lost Hope or a bone or something—go on. . . ."
Venus wagged his tail and mounted the block. The Headsman's eye gleamed and he raised his axe.
"My faithful follower wishes to die for me," exclaimed the delighted Queen. "He can."
As the Executioner poised himself for the stroke, Venus saw his mistake and vacated the block.
"He has thought better of it," said the disappointed Queen.
"He's an Ath," said the equally disappointed Executioner.
