He must have been rather a nice Lion because that minute he began to look "kind of smiley round the mouth and teary round the lashes" – which is part of a piece of poetry I once read.
"Oh! Aunt Maria!" he exclaimed a little slangily. "I never thought of that: it would be nice."
"A Lion could be the coziest thing in the world – if he would," I went on.
He jumped up in the air and danced and kicked his hind legs for joy.
"Could he! Could he! Could he?" he shouted out. "Oh! let me be a Cozy Lion! Let me be a Cozy Lion! Hooray! Hooray! Hooray! I would like it better than being invited to Buckingham Palace!"
"Little children would just flock to see you and play with you," I said. "And then if they came, their mothers and fathers couldn't be kept away. They would flock too."
The smile of joy that spread over his face actually reached his ears and almost shook me off.
"That would be Society!" he grinned.
"The very best!" I answered. "Children who are real darlings, and not imitations, come first, and then mothers and fathers – the rest just straggle along anywhere."
"When could it begin? When could it begin?" he panted out.
"Not," I said very firmly, "until you have tried some Breakfast Food!"
"Where shall I get it? Oh! Where? Oh! Where?"
"I will get it, of course," was my answer.
Then I stood up on the very tip of his ear and put my tiny golden trumpet to my lips. (And Oh! how that Lion did roll up his eyes to try to catch a glimpse of me!) And I played this tune to call my Fairy Workers:
I'm calling from the Huge Green Hill,
Tira–lira–lira,
The Lion's Cave is cool and still.
Tira–lira–lira.
The Lion wishes to improve
And show he's filled with tender love
And not with Next Door Neighbor.
The Lion wishes to be good.
To fill him full of Breakfast Food
Will aid him in his labor.
Bring Breakfast Food from far and near
– He'll eat a dreadful lot I fear.
Oh! Tira–lira–lira–la
And Tira–lira–ladi.
A Lion learning to be good
Needs Everybody's Breakfast Food.
You workers bring it – Tira–la
And Tira–lira–ladi.
Then the Fairy Workers came flying in clouds. In three minutes and three quarters they were swarming all over the Huge Green Hill and into the Lion's Cave, every one of them with a little sack on his green back. They swarmed here and they swarmed there. Some were cooks and brought tiny pots and kettles and stoves and they began to cook Breakfast Foods as fast as lightning. The Lion sat up. (I forgot to say that he had turned un–pale long before this and was the right color again.) And his mouth fell wide open, just with surprise and amazement. What amazed him most was that one out of all those thousands of little Workers in their green caps and smocks was the least bit afraid of him. Why, what do you think! My little Skip just jumped up and stood on the end of the Lion's nose while he asked me a question. You never saw anything as funny as that Lion looking down the bridge of his nose at him until he squinted awfully. He was so interested in him.
"Does he take it with sugar and cream, your Royal Silver–cross–bell–ness?" Skip asked me, taking off his green cap and bowing low.
"Try him with it in both ways," I said.
When the Workers had made a whole lot of all the kinds together they poured it into a hollow stone and covered it with sugar and cream.
"Ready, your Highnesses!" they all called out in chorus.
"Is that it?" said the Lion. "It looks very nice. How does one eat it? Must I bite it?"
"Dear me, no," I answered. "Lap it."
So he began. If you'll believe me, he simply reveled in it. He ate and ate and ate, and lapped and lapped and lapped and he did not stop until the hollow stone was quite clean and empty and his sides were quite swelled and puffed out. And he looked as pleased as Punch.
"I never ate anything nicer in my life," he said. "There was a Sunday School picnic I once went to."
"A Sunday School picnic!" I shouted so fiercely that he blushed all over. The very tuft on his tail was deep rose color. "Who invited you?"
He hung his head and stammered.
"I was not exactly invited," he said, "and didn't go with the school to the picnic grounds – but I should have come back with it – at least some of it – but for some men with guns!"
I stamped on his ear as hard as ever I could.
"Never let me hear you mention such a subject again," I said. "Nobody in Society would speak to you if they knew of it!"
He quite shook in his shoes – only he hadn't any shoes.
"I'll never even think of it again," he said. "I see my mistake. I apologize. I do indeed!"
Now what do you suppose happened at that very minute? If I hadn't been a Fairy I should have been frightened to death. At that very minute I heard little children's voices singing like skylarks farther down on the Huge Green Hill – actually little children a whole lot of them!
"It – it sounds like the Sunday School pic – " the Lion began to Say – and then he remembered he must not mention the subject and stopped short.
"Has your heart changed?" I said to him. "Are you sure it has?"
"I think it has," he said meekly, "but even if it hadn't, ma'am, I'm so full of Breakfast Food I couldn't eat a strawberry."
It happened that I had my heart glass with me – I can examine hearts with it and see if they have properly changed or not.
"Roll over on your back," I said. "I will examine your heart now."
And the little children on the Huge Green Hill side were coming nearer and nearer and laughing and singing and twittering more like skylarks than ever.
He rolled over on his back and I jumped off his ear on to his big chest. I thumped and listened and looked about until I could see his great heart and watch it beating – thub – thub – thub – thub. It actually had changed almost all over except one little corner and as the children's voices came nearer and nearer and sounded like whole nests full of skylarks let loose, even the corner was changing as fast as it could. Instead of a big ugly dark red fiery heart, it was a soft ivory white one with delicate pink spots on it.
"It has changed!" I cried out. "You are going to be a great big nice soft cozy thing, and you couldn't eat a picnic if you tried – and you will never try."