On the level roof of one of the Palace towers the Queen watched the red dawn break, the red dawn of the Terror. Her ladies had been crying in the bedchamber, and she had cried too. They were all gone now save Miss Temple, the governess, who had been openly mutinous and rude to the Duke of Gloucester, Captain of the Guard. Now the Court Chaplain waited in his vestry not daring to proceed with the early service, because Miss Temple was in possession of the chapel, where she knelt protesting aloud before the Altar. The Queen was alone upon her tower, kneeling with her arms thrown out upon the balustrade, watching the red sun light the domes and the spires of the Capital. The sun swung upwards, the little white clouds swept merrily overhead, the Palace resounded with sharp commands, the rolling of gun wheels, and the tramp of men, while sometimes through a momentary silence came the song of the birds and whispering of the trees. Margaret's head fell softly on her arm, and kneeling on the cold, white stones, she slept, and sleeping dreamed that once again she walked amid long aisles of chestnut trees in the garden at Hampton Court. She walked with the gaunt old governess hand in hand, talking of days to come, and the courtly splendour of a stainless reign. Miss Temple was to be Archbishop of Canterbury, the nation was to rest under the ancient shadow of the Holy Church, women were to be forbidden to smoke or ride cycles, bachelors were to be shut out from public office, music halls were to be entirely devoted to the meetings of missionaries. Then Mr. Brand came wandering up the avenue, his yacht at heel like a dog, and he was remarking, with a pleasant smile, that it was all quite simple with etheric power, but would she be pleased to wake up. In vain her protests, for he told her she must wake up, she must, she must wake up. She did awake with a start to find beside her a tall lad in a canvas suit, grimy from head to foot. "Oh, Tom," she cried, "go and wash. You, a Prince!" She yawned daintily as she rose to her feet. "You example to the British public! Oh, you disgrace!" "A nice sort of Queen you make sleeping on the tiles like a cat. But I say, Meg, won't it be fun if they do attack! Gloucester's giving me a machine-gun, north-east salient. Oh, it's glorious!" "Do be cautious, Tom, you know you're next to the throne." "Keep the throne to yourself, I don't want it! Tommy of Lancaster with a crown! Bah, it doesn't look good enough. I say, won't you have some food? I'll send my servant up with a tray. You needn't come down; you'd get in our way downstairs." "I'm very hungry," said the Queen; "but is there any food?" "Plenty," said the Duke of Lancaster; "I'll send some up. By the way, that man from Lyonesse wants to have audience." The Queen's face darkened and the young prince laughed.