“The _Queen’s_ Baby, a course!” said Bruno. “Titania’s Baby. And we’s _welly_ sorry. Sylvie, she’s—oh so sorry!” “_How_ sorry is she?” I asked, mischievously. “Three-quarters of a yard,” Bruno replied with perfect solemnity. “And _I’m_ a little sorry too,” he added, shutting his eyes so as not to see that he was smiling. “And what are you doing about the Baby?” “Well, the _soldiers_ are all looking for it—up and down—everywhere.” “The _soldiers_?” I exclaimed. “Yes, a course!” said Bruno. “When there’s no fighting to be done, the soldiers doos any little odd jobs, oo know.” I was amused at the idea of its being a ‘little odd job’ to find the Royal Baby. “But how did you come to lose it?” I asked. “We put it in a flower,” Sylvie, who had just joined us, explained with her eyes full of tears. “Only we ca’n’t remember _which_!” “She says _us_ put it in a flower,” Bruno interrupted, “’cause she doosn’t want _I_ to get punished. But it were really _me_ what put it there. _Sylvie_ were picking Dindledums.” [Illustration: THE QUEEN’S BABY] “You shouldn’t say ‘_us_ put it in a flower’,” Sylvie very gravely remarked. “Well, _hus_, then,” said Bruno. “I never _can_ remember those horrid H’s!” “Let me help you to look for it,” I said. So Sylvie and I made a ‘voyage of discovery’ among all the flowers; but there was no Baby to be seen. “What’s become of Bruno?” I said, when we had completed our tour. “He’s down in the ditch there,” said Sylvie, “amusing a young Frog.” I went down on my hands and knees to look for him, for I felt very curious to know how young Frogs _ought_ to be amused. After a minute’s search, I found him sitting at the edge of the ditch, by the side of the little Frog, and looking rather disconsolate. “How are you getting on, Bruno?” I said, nodding to him as he looked up. “Ca’n’t amuse it no more,” Bruno answered, very dolefully, “’cause it won’t say what it would like to do next! I’ve showed it all the duck-weeds—and a live caddis-worm—but it won’t say nuffin! What—would oo—like?” he shouted into the ear of the Frog: but the little creature sat quite still, and took no notice of him. “It’s deaf, I think!” Bruno said, turning away with a sigh. “And it’s time to get the Theatre ready.” “Who are the audience to be?” “Only but Frogs,” said Bruno. “But they haven’t comed yet. They wants to be drove up, like sheep.” “Would it save time,” I suggested, “if _I_ were to walk round with Sylvie, to drive up the Frogs, while _you_ get the Theatre ready?” “That _are_ a good plan!” cried Bruno. “But where _are_ Sylvie?” “I’m here!” said Sylvie, peeping over the edge of the bank. “I was just watching two Frogs that were having a race.” “Which won it?” Bruno eagerly inquired. Sylvie was puzzled. “He _does_ ask such hard questions!” she confided to me. “And what’s to happen in the Theatre?” I asked. “First they have their Birthday-Feast,” Sylvie said: “then Bruno does some Bits of Shakespeare; then he tells them a Story.”