did not belong to her, and that she doubted very much her own capability
of waiting properly on the great people at the ball. The steward,
however, would hear of no objections, and called peremptorily for Marta
Angrisani to make the necessary statement as to Nanina's character.
While this formality was being complied with to the steward's perfect
satisfaction, La Biondella came in, unaccompanied on this occasion by
the usual companion of all her walks, the learned poodle Scarammuccia.

"This is Nanina's sister," said the good-natured sick-nurse, taking the
first opportunity of introducing La Biondella to the great marquis's
great man. "A very good, industrious little girl; and very clever at
plaiting dinner-mats, in case his excellency should ever want any. What
have you done with the dog, my dear?"

"I couldn't get him past the pork butcher's, three streets off," replied
La Biondella. "He would sit down and look at the sausages. I am more
than half afraid he means to steal some of them."

"A very pretty child," said the steward, patting La Biondella on the
cheek. "We ought to have her at the hall. If his excellency should want
a Cupid, or a youthful nymph, or anything small and light in that way,
I shall come back and let you know. In the meantime, Nanina, consider
yourself Shepherdess Number Thirty, and come to the housekeeper's room
at the palace to try on your dress to-morrow. Nonsense! don't talk to
me about being afraid and awkward. All you're wanted to do is to look
pretty; and your glass must have told you you could do that long ago.
Remember the rent of the room, my dear, and don't stand in your light
and your sister's. Does the little girl like sweetmeats? Of course she
does! Well, I promise you a whole box of sugar-plums to take home for
her, if you will come and wait at the ball."

"Oh, go to the ball, Nanina; go to the ball!" cried La Biondella,
clapping her hands.

"Of course she will go to the ball," said the nurse. "She would be mad
to throw away such an excellent chance."

Nanina looked perplexed. She hesitated a little, then drew Marta
Angrisani away into a corner, and whispered this question to her:

"Do you think there will be any priests at the palace where the marquis
lives?"

"Heavens, child, what a thing to ask!" returned the nurse. "Priests at a
masked ball! You might as well expect to find Turks performing high mass
in the cathedral. But supposing you did meet with priests at the palac