"O Jeanne," he said, "it is very unkind to say that," and he turned away quite chilled and perplexed. Jeanne ran after him and threw her arms round his neck. "Cheri, Cheri," she said, "I didn't mean to vex you, but I _don't_ understand." Hugh looked into her dark eyes with his earnest blue ones. "Jeanne," he said, "don't you remember _any_ of it--don't you remember the trees changing their colours so prettily?--don't you remember the frogs' banquet?" Jeanne stared at him so earnestly that she quite frowned. "I think--I think," she said, and then she stopped. "When you say that of the trees, I think I did see rainbow colours all turning into each other. I think, Cheri, part of me was there and part not; can there be two of me, I wonder? But please, Cheri, don't ask me any more. It puzzles me so, and then perhaps I may say something to vex you. Let us play at our day games now, Cheri, and never mind about the other things. But if you go anywhere else like that, ask the fairies to take me too, for I always like to be with you, you know, Cheri." So they kissed and made friends. But still it seemed very queer to Hugh. Till now Jeanne had always been eager to talk about the tapestry castle, and full of fancies about Dudu and Houpet and the rest of the animals, and anxious to hear Hugh's dreams. Now she seemed perfectly content with her every-day world, delighted with a new and beautiful china dinner-service which her godmother had sent her, and absorbed in cooking all manner of wonderful dishes for a grand dolls' feast, for which she was sending invitations to all her dolls, young and old, ugly and pretty, armless, footless, as were some, in the perfection of Parisian toilettes as were others. For she had, like most only daughters, an immense collection of dolls, though she was not as fond of them as many little girls. "I thought you didn't much care for dolls. It was one of the things I liked you for at the first," said Hugh, in a slightly aggrieved tone of voice. Lessons were over, and the children were busy at the important business of cooking the feast. Hugh didn't mind the cooking; he had even submitted to a paper cap which Jeanne had constructed for him on the model of that of the "chef" downstairs; he found great consolation in the beating up an egg which Marcelline had got for them as a great treat, and immense satisfaction in watching the stewing, in one of Jeanne's toy pans on the nursery fire, of a preparation of squashed prunes, powdered chocolate, and bread crumbs, which was to represent a "ragout a la"--I really do not remember what. "I thought you didn't care for dolls, Jeanne," Hugh repeated. "It would be ever so much nicer to have all the animals at our feast. We could put them on chairs all round the table. That _would_ be some fun."