They did not stay to ask What prize should crown their task, Well sure that prize was such as no man strives for; But passed into eclipse, Her kiss upon their lips-- Even Belphoebe's, whom they gave their lives for! Gloriana Willow Shaw, the little fenced wood where the hop-poles are stacked like Indian wigwams, had been given to Dan and Una for their very own kingdom when they were quite small. As they grew older, they contrived to keep it most particularly private. Even Phillips, the gardener, told them every time he came in to take a hop-pole for his beans, and old Hobden would no more have thought of setting his rabbit-wires there without leave, given fresh each spring, than he would have torn down the calico and marking-ink notice on the big willow which said: 'Grown-ups not allowed in the Kingdom unless brought.' Now you can understand their indignation when, one blowy July afternoon, as they were going up for a potato-roast, they saw somebody moving among the trees. They hurled themselves over the gate, dropping half the potatoes, and while they were picking them up Puck came out of a wigwam. 'Oh, it's you, is it?' said Una. 'We thought it was people.' 'I saw you were angry--from your legs,' he answered with a grin. 'Well, it's our own Kingdom--not counting you, of course.' 'That's rather why I came. A lady here wants to see you.' 'What about?' said Dan cautiously. 'Oh, just Kingdoms and things. She knows about Kingdoms.' There was a lady near the fence dressed in a long dark cloak that hid everything except her high red-heeled shoes. Her face was half covered by a black silk fringed mask, without goggles. And yet she did not look in the least as if she motored. Puck led them up to her and bowed solemnly. Una made the best dancing-lesson curtsy she could remember. The lady answered with a long, deep, slow, billowy one. 'Since it seems that you are a Queen of this Kingdom,' she said, 'I can do no less than acknowledge your sovereignty.' She turned sharply on staring Dan. 'What's in your head, lad? Manners?' 'I was thinking how wonderfully you did that curtsy,' he answered. She laughed a rather shrill laugh. 'You're a courtier already. Do you know anything of dances, wench--or Queen, must I say?' 'I've had some lessons, but I can't really dance a bit,' said Una. 'You should learn then.' The lady moved forward as though she would teach her at once. 'It gives a woman alone among men or her enemies time to think how she shall win or--lose. A woman can only work in man's playtime. Heigho!' She sat down on the bank. Old Middenboro, the lawn-mower pony, stumped across the paddock and hung his sorrowful head over the fence. 'A pleasant Kingdom,' said the lady, looking round. 'Well enclosed. And how does your Majesty govern it? Who is your Minister?' Una did not quite understand. 'We don't play that,' she said. 'Play?' The lady threw up her hands and laughed.