‘Thank you! I had forgotten Elizabeth’s hair was red; so it was. This is my court train,’ snatching a tablecloth that hung on a bush near by, and pinning it to her waist in the twinkling of an eye,—‘this my farthingale,’ dangling her sun-bonnet from her belt,—‘this my sceptre,’ seizing a Japanese umbrella,—‘this my crown,’ inverting a bright tin plate upon her curly head. ‘She is just alighting from her chariot, _thus_; the courtiers turn pale, _thus_; (why don’t you do it?) what shall be done? The Royal Feet must not be wet. “Go round the puddle? Prit, me Lud, ’Od’s body! Forsooth! Certainly not! Remove the puddle!” she says haughtily to her subjects. They are just about to do so, when out from behind a neighbouring chaparral bush stalks a beautiful young prince with coal-black hair and rose-red cheeks. He wears a rich velvet cloak, glittering with embroidery. He sees not her crown, her hair outshines it; he sees not her sceptre, her tiny hand conceals it; he sees naught save the loathly mud. He strips off his cloak and floats it on the puddle. With a haughty but gracious bend of her head the Queen accepts the courtesy; crosses the puddle, _thus_, waves her sceptre, _thus_, and saying, “You shall hear from me by return mail, me Lud,” she vanishes within the castle. The next morning she makes Sir Walter British Minister to Florida. He departs at once with a cargo of tobacco, which he exchanges for sweet potatoes, and everybody is happy ever after.’ The girls were convulsed with mirth at this historical romance, and, as Mrs. Winship wiped the tears of merriment from her eyes, Polly seized the golden opportunity and dropped on her knees beside her. ‘Please, Aunt Truth, we can’t get the white mosquito-netting because Dr. Winship has the key of the storehouse in his pocket, and so—may—I—blow the horn?’ Mrs. Winship gave her consent in despair, and Polly went to the oak-tree where the horn hung and blew all the strength of her lungs into blast after blast for five minutes. ‘That’s all I needed,’ she said, on returning; ‘that was an escape-valve, and I shall be lady-like and well-behaved the rest of the day.’ CHAPTER VI QUEEN ELSIE VISITS THE COURT ‘An hour and friend with friend will meet, Lip cling to lip and hand clasp hand.’ ‘NOW, Laura,’ asked Bell, when quiet was restored, ‘advise us about Elsie’s tent. We want it to be perfectly lovely; and you have such good taste!’ ‘Let me think,’ said Laura. ‘Oh, if she were only a brunette instead of a blonde, we could festoon the tent with that yellow tarlatan I brought for the play!’ ‘What difference does it make whether she is dark or light?’ asked Bell, obtusely.