The Lieutenant and the children pictured to themselves how the King, when nearing Mårbacka, would suddenly shade his eyes with his hand so as to see better. “What is that great white building over there in the meadow?” he would ask. “Have they two churches in this parish?” “No, your Majesty,” the Lieutenant would then reply (for of course he was to ride with the King), “that white building is not a church, it is my cow-barn.” Then the King would look at him in wide-eyed wonder, and say: “By Jove! You must be a deucedly clever fellow, Eric Gustaf, to have built yourself a barn like that!” How they were to house the King and all his retinue in the little one-story dwelling--that was an almost unsolvable problem. The Lieutenant had often talked of building another story, and they were all agreed that when that was finished it would be an easy matter to entertain the King. Even then they probably would be a bit cramped for space. The Lieutenant and his wife might have to spend the night in the hay-loft, and the children--well, they could sleep in the rabbit hutch. Now that about the rabbit hutch tickled the little girls immensely. And they wondered what the King would say about the garden. Of course he would marvel to find away back here in the farming country a garden laid out in the true English manner. At that, the Lieutenant would immediately send word to the old gardener and hearten him with the good news that the King had praised his flower beds and gravel paths. And then when the King was leaving Mårbacka he would present Fru Lagerlöf with a gold brooch and Mamselle Lovisa with a gold bracelet, and the old housekeeper would receive a large shawl-pin of silver. Before stepping into his carriage, His Majesty would shake hands with the Lieutenant, and say: “Thanks and honour to you, Eric Gustaf Lagerlöf! It is but a modest bit of my realm that is in your keeping, but I see that you take good care of it.” Those words the Lieutenant would remember with joy as long as he lived. He and his children had right merry times on these little excursions into the land of make-believe. It was a pity, though, that the royal visit could not really and truly come about until the Lieutenant had built a second story. Then, lo and behold, at the close of the eighteen-sixties, when the Lieutenant had finished with everything else, he was ready to start remodelling the house. The royal visit apart, they were rather closely housed in the old one-story dwelling. The Lieutenant had already made some alterations. Eight or ten years back he had cut out larger window openings and had done away with the small-paned sashes. He had also put up new tile-stoves, papered the walls of the parlour and living room, and built a large veranda in place of the old porch.