the empress

down in the boudoir by the kitchen garden, empress of blandings had just woken refreshed from a light sleep. she looked about her, happy to be back in the old familiar surroundings. it was pleasant to feel settled once more. she was a philosopher and could take things as they came, but she did like the quiet life. all that whizzing about in cars and being dumped in strange kitchens didn't do a pig of regular habits any good.
there seemed to be edible substances in the trough beside her. she rose, and inspected it. yes, substances, plainly edible. it was a little late, perhaps, but could always do with a snack. whiffle, in his monumental book, has said that a pig, if aiming at the old mid-season forlm, should consume fifty-seven thousand eight hundred calories. and what whiffle said today, empress of baldings thought tomorrow.

she lowered her noble head and got down to it.