len on the journey, Baron--and came to tell me about it at
once, poor soul! And--yes, the Muscombes must be back in that cosy
little flat of theirs in Mount Street by this time. They always spend
Easter in London, you know."

"In London!" sighed the Baron. "That is truly a far cry from our
Maerchenland! But your Majesty can see that, in my present spirits, I
should make but a sorry figure at Court. Have I your leave to absent
myself for a brief period!"

"By all means--as long as you like," said the Queen, who rightly
considered that a Court Chamberlain in constant floods of tears would do
little to relieve the prevailing depression. And so the Baron did not
appear that evening, which might have excited some remark if anyone had
happened to notice his absence.

On the following morning Queen Selina paid a surprise visit to the
Tapestry Chamber, where her ladies were more or less busy in
embroidering "chair-backs" (she was too much in the movement not to know
that the term "antimacassars" was a solecism). It was an industry she
had lately invented for them, and they held it in healthy abhorrence.

She had not had at all a good night, and was consequently inclined to be
aggressive. "Good morning, girls," she began, "I fancy I heard, just
before I came in, one of you mentioning a person of the name of 'Old
Mother Schwellenposch.' The speaker, if I'm not mistaken, was Baroness
Bauerngrosstochterheimer."

"It was, your Majesty," admitted the Baroness, rising and curtseying.

"And who, may I ask, is this Mother--whatever-her-name is? Some vulgar
acquaintance of yours, I presume?"

"If your Majesty is so pleased to describe her, it is not for me to
protest," was the Baroness's demure reply, followed by suppressed but
quite audible giggles from her companions.

"Why you should all snigger in that excessively unladylike way is best
known to yourselves," said Queen Selina. "But I can make allowances for
you, considering who your ancestresses _were_! It's true I _had_ hoped
when I first came here that, if I could not expect quite the sort of
society I had been accustomed to, I should at least have people about me
of ordinary refinement! As it is, I often wonder what my dear friends
the Duchess of Gleneagles and the Marchioness of Muscombe would say if
they knew the class of persons I have to associate with. I can fancy how
they would pity me. When one has enjoyed the privilege of intimacy with
really great ladies like the