QUEEN’S GARDEN, BUCKINGHAM PALACE, LONDON
“A nd the beauty of this plague is that it doesn’t affect Wonderlanders,” the Queen continued telling Margaret, “along with most of the South American cities where it was cooked. Fantastic-ballastic!” The Queen hailed.
“Does that mean that ordinary people can’t handle the truth?” one of the guards asked curiously.
“Yes. Of course. Those two-faced hypocrite humans.” The Queen grinned, then her face dimmed all of a sudden, sneering at the guard. “Who gave you permission to speak in the first place? Off with his head!”
Margaret watched the guards take him to execution, not really caring for him. “But truth or no truth, My Queen. We need to find a cure.”
“No, we don’t. I changed my mind,” the Queen exclaimed. “The Jub Jub with the cure. I have a better idea.”
“But you said—”
“Don’t interrupt me, Margaret.” Like a monkey, the Queen jumped on her chair again, pointing a finger straight into Margaret’s eyes. “Forget everything I told you about sending someone after the Pillar.”
“Forget about the Pillar?” Margaret thought the Queen had lost her mind—not that she possessed a healthy one in the first place.
“Yes, Margaret. I have a genius plan. One that, if it succeeds, will have me ruling the world.”