I wish I were a queen. It is not because I think it would be grand, but because queens and princesses wear their coronets over their kerchiefs instead of under. And it is such a piece of business to fasten one’s kerchief every morning with the coronet underneath. Marguerite has less trouble than I have with it, as she has nothing to fasten but the kerchief. And if it is not done to perfection I am sure to hear of it from Alix. When Marguerite was braiding my hair this morning, I asked her if she knew why she was made. She was ready enough with her answer. "To serve you, Damoiselle, without doubt." "And why was I made, dost thou think, Marguerite? To be served by thee—or to serve some one else?" "Of course, while the Damoiselle is young and at home, she will serve Monseigneur. Then, when the cavalier comes who pleases Monseigneur and the good God, he will serve the Damoiselle. And afterwards,—it is the duty of a good wife to serve her lord. And of course, all, nobles and villeins, must serve the good God." "Well, thou hast settled it easier than I could do it," said I. "But, Margot, dost thou never become tired of all this serving?" "Not now, Damoiselle." "What dost thou mean by that?" "Ah, there was a time," said Marguerite, and I thought a blush burned on her dear old face, "when I was a young, silly maiden, and very, very foolish, Damoiselle." "Dost thou think all maidens silly, Margot?" "Very few wise, Damoiselle. My foolish head was full of envious thoughts, I know that—vain wishes that I had been born a noble lady, instead of a villein maiden. I thought scorn to serve, and would fain have been born to rule." "How very funny!" said I. "I never knew villeins had any notions of that sort. I thought they were quite content." "Is the noble Damoiselle always quite content? Pardon me." "Why, no," said I. "But then, Margot, I am noble, and nobles may rightfully aspire. Villeins ought to be satisfied with the lot which the good God has marked out for them, and with the honour of serving a noble House." "Ha, Damoiselle! The Damoiselle has used a deep, strong word. Satisfy! I believe nothing will satisfy any living heart of man or woman,—except that one thing." "What one thing?" "I am an ignorant villein, my Damoiselle. I do not know the holy Latin tongue, as ladies do. But now and then Father Eudes will render some words of the blessed Evangel into French in his sermon. And he did so that day—when I was satisfied." "What was it that satisfied thee, then, Margot?" "They were words, Father Eudes said, of the good God Himself, when He walked on middle earth among us men. ’Come unto Me,’ He said, ’all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.’" "But I do not understand, Marguerite. How did those words satisfy thee?" "The words did not, Damoiselle. But the thing did. I just took the blessed Lord at His word, and went to Him, and, thanks be to His holy Name, He gave me rest."