At that moment there came to meet her from behind a great beech tree a slender little lady. She had gray hair puffed daintily and fancifully about her small, pale face, and knots of pale blue ribbon, woven in and out of her lacy, trailing gown, repeated the color of her mild, round eyes. Half consciously Caroline muttered: "Here is one of my ladies-in-waiting," when the little lady rushed at her, smiling delightedly. "Are you a queen, then?" she cried in a high, sweet voice. "How very pleasant. Dear me, how _very_ pleasant!" Caroline smiled with equal delight. Very few persons of this little lady's age had such quick sense; mostly they had to be taught the game. "Yes," she answered, "I am. I am Queen Marie Antoinette." The little lady fell back a step. Her blue eyes clouded and she pouted like a big baby. "Why--why, how _can_ you be?" she demanded, fretfully, "when that is who I am, myself!" For a moment Caroline scowled; such flexibility was almost disconcerting. Then her natural good-humor and the training resulting from many summers with Miss Honey, who claimed all the best roles at once and shifted often, prompted her generous reply: "All right. I'll be Mary Queen of Scots, then--I like it about as well." The little lady beamed again. "That will be very pleasant," she said, "I trust your majesty is quite well?" "Yes, indeed," Caroline assured her, adding airily; "How well the castle is looking this morning! I think I'll have the flag out every day, now that I'm back." Marie Antoinette flushed angrily and pouted once more. "You! _You!_" she mimicked. "What have you to do with my flag? That goes up by my orders, let me inform you! Here, gardener--" and she waved her little parasol at the man in gray, who was already walking rapidly towards them--"is that flag in my honor or not?" "Yes, Miss," he said promptly. "Sure it is, Miss," and he nodded politely at them both. For a moment the rival queens confronted each other fiercely, then her Majesty of France smiled at Scottish Mary. "You see," she said, in her high, bright voice; "you see, I was right. But then, I always am. I shall have to leave your Royal Highness now, for I see one of my subjects coming whom I don't care for at all--she is not very pleasant." Sweeping a low courtesy, the little lady glided away with a graceful, dipping motion; the white hand that lifted her trailing skirts was covered with turquoises. Caroline looked where her royal sister had pointed, and saw a tall, handsome young woman hurrying toward her. She was dressed plainly in black, but with a rich plainness that could not have escaped the youngest of womankind. Opposite Caroline she paused, her hand on her heart. "John! Oh, John! This--this is a child!" "Yes, Miss; sure it is," said the gardener politely. "But how did she get here? Surely no children come here?" Her hands were trembling. "Yes, Miss, many of 'em--sure they do," he said pleasantly, with a good Irish smile.