Not more than two days ago today, June's sun peeked out through the trees to dapple upon the most extraordinary thing. A tea party hosted in honor of The Queen of Hearts had been laid on the greenest pasture in all of Wonderland, with a place saved for the highest of noblemen.
Festivities where abound, and it was all going swimmingly! The Queen was way a'head' of everyone in croquet, and The Cheshire cat was bringing with it an air of whimsical menace which was met with a winging choir against the little beastie by the others. Everyone was actually getting along! (ish)
Or at least, they where, until-
'!WHO STOLE THE JAM TARTS!'
Screeched The Queen of Hearts! having lifted up the cloister which was marked 'Jam Tarts', and revealed nothing but a sad little puddle at the bottom of the tray.
Everyone immediately scampered, clambering into the bushes and hiding their necks in fright. This didn't last long though, and soon increasingly jammy fingers pointed to and from increasingly crumby mouths, each faster than the next to throw the other to the axe. It was chaos. Looking around the wild-eyed crew, the case feels near impossible to crack. With this rag-tag group it almost feels like the question isn't 'Who stole the Jam tarts?', but 'Who didn't?'!
But of course, dear readers, that was just it. For the red hand which points oft bears its own harshly wielded admonishments, and there was not a soul that day who was not guilty of that crime.
And with that our jammy case, is closed.
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