I don’t know why more queens aren’t called Alice, since it rhymes so nicely with palace. Whereas Elizabeth doesn’t rhyme with anything. But on with the story. I am proud to present:
(I’ve taken the liberty of changing the spelling) (Maybe there just was no room for that second T)
This is a little hand-made booklet, on very faded paper, put together with a couple of staples and completed with pencil illustrations. It’s in the box with my various other ‘finds’ but I don’t know who created it. The McArthur side of the family was the most artistic, but beyond that I can’t guess.
Little Queen Alice sat in her palace.
Never was maiden more happy than she.
By her playmates beloved, she had risen above
And now was as happy as happy could be.
Little Bob Concord Is her Majesty’s landlord,
As there she did sit in her queenly array,
With a wreath on her head from the autumn leaf bed,
She tried very hard her piano to play.
And now near her home and in fields did she roam.
Her pony was lively, that much she could say.
But whatever betide, with wee Bob for her quide,
She’d be safer than anyone ‘neath the sun’s rays.
(Well, except for this)
(And finally, this.)
She leant upon the mantel fine
A mother grieved and sad.
And by her on the carpet stood
A charming little lad.
“Why did you hurt wee brother Ned?”
She said with voice so sad.
“Why don’t you know”, the laddie said,
“Because I was so bad.”
This doesn’t seem to have much of a connection to the Queen Alice story, unless it’s a postcript of some sort. Personally I think it’s just a page filler and then the creativity ran dry, because two blank pages follow.
So we didn’t exaclty have a Beatrix Potter in the family, but I’m glad somebody thought this special little book was worth tucking away.