reported at once
to the Queen. For she had lately become aware that she was being watched
by someone who was obviously not the gardener he tried to appear, and
whom she had more than once detected in the act of following her in
secret. He must be either a spy, or a guard with orders to prevent her
escape--as if she were likely to attempt it when there was no place to
which she could escape! She had made no complaint to the Court
Godmother, being unwilling to trouble the old Fairy with a matter of so
little importance. But she took her revenge on the spy by making his
task as difficult as she could. If she detected him in time lying in
wait in the bushes by the front of the Pavilion, she would slip out at
the back, and reach her favourite haunts by a roundabout path screened
by yew hedges, while he imagined her to be still indoors. He was really
such an unsuspicious spy that there was hardly any fun in baffling him.
She had done so with the usual success one hot afternoon, and was making
for a tree under which she often sat. It had great glossy leaves, and
gorgeous flowers with a delicate but penetrating scent, and the thought
of the coolness beneath its spreading branches was particularly
attractive just then. After looking round and satisfying herself that
she had not been pursued, she sat down and opened the book she had
brought--a chronicle of the lives of the Sovereigns of Maerchenland. She
had read most of it already, and instead of reading any more, she found
herself thinking of the contrast between their earlier Kings and Queens
and the present occupiers of the throne. The former Sovereigns had had
their failings; some of them had been arbitrary and wrong-headed, one or
two cruel and tyrannical. But none had ever been vulgar or ridiculous.
She could understand poor Mr. Wibberley-Stimpson's being so hopelessly
out of his element--but it seemed strange that Queen Selina, who was
the daughter of a Maerchenland Prince, should not have inherited any
trace of royal dignity. They were quite incapable of governing the
people, who, as Daphne knew, regarded them with scarcely disguised
contempt. And it was such a pity, for the good Maerchenlanders had been
so loyal at first! They would be loyal still, if only they had a
sovereign for whom they could feel a particle of--. She had got to this
point in her meditations when she was startled by a stealthy rustle in
the branches overhead. The spy had been too clever for her after