But was she safe? Was it not already too late? With trembling dread the Queen drew away the furs and shawls wrapped round the baby, almost expecting to find her changed in some strange way; and it was with thankfulness she saw that little Rose was still herself—sweet and smiling in her sleep. For she was fast asleep. "The darling, the precious angel," thought the poor mother as she laid her in her little cot just as the ladies and nurses and attendants came trooping into the room. "She is only asleep," said the Queen in a whisper. "Nothing has happened to her. She is sleeping sweetly." The ladies stared. The Queen's behavior had been so strange that they could not understand her. "It is a pity to be so anxious about the child," they said to one another. "It will bring no blessing," for they thought it all came from the Queen's foolish terror lest the little Princess should catch cold, and they shook their heads. But the Queen seemed full of thankfulness. She was very gentle and subdued. Many times that afternoon she came back to see if little Rose was well, but she was still sleeping. "The fresh keen air has made her drowsy, I suppose," said the head nurse, late in the evening when the Queen returned again. "And she has had nothing to eat since the middle of the day," said the mother anxiously. "I almost think if she does not wake herself in an hour or so you will have to rouse her." To this the nurse agreed. But two hours later in the Queen's next visit to the nursery, there was a strange report to give her. The nurse had tried to wake the baby, but it was all in vain. Little Rose just smiled sweetly and rolled over on her other side, without attempting in the least to open her eyes. It seemed cruel to disturb her. She seemed so very sleepy. "I think we must let the Princess have her sleep out—children are like that sometimes," said the nurse. And the Queen was forced to agree to it, though she had a strange sinking at the heart, and even the King when he came to look at his little daughter felt uneasy, though he tried to speak cheerfully. "No doubt she will wake in the morning quite bright and merry," he said, "all the brighter and merrier for sleeping a good round and a half of the clock." The morning dawned—the slow coming winter daylight of the North found its way into the Princess's nursery—a tiny gleam of ruddy sunshine even managed to creep in to kiss her dimpled cheek, but still the baby slept as soundly as if the night was only beginning. And matters grew serious.