Well, he was
in a perfect fury, and how to get at the Princess he did not know.
He swallowed several buckets of hot brimstone, rolled his head in a
red flannel petticoat, put his tail in a hot sand-bag, and went to
bed hoping to cure the ague, which he did completely, so that he
was quite well next day and more anxious to eat the Princess than
ever.
Now next door to the Dreadful Griffin (that is, a hundred miles
away) there lived a Wicked Witch, and he went to consult her as to
how he might get at the Princess. When the Wicked Witch heard what
a sad effect White Cats had on the Griffin's constitution she said
that she would have expected a Griffin of his coils to have had
more sense.
"Any slow-worm knows," said the Wicked Witch, "that cats love mice
better than Princesses; therefore get a large sack of fat mice, let
them loose a little way from the castle, and when the cats see them
they will run after them, and you can eat the Princess."
The Dreadful Griffin was so pleased with the Wicked Witch that he
presented her with a pair of fire-bricks and a hot-water tin, and
then flew away to the Purveyor of Mice, who lived in a town about
seventy miles away. He bought twelve hundred dozen fat mice of the
best quality, all the Purveyor had in stock that were home-grown,
and flew on with them to the castle. When he was a little way off
he let the mice out, expecting all the cats to arrive at once; but
not a cat appeared.
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