o the marble steps that led up to it.

'Just make yourselves comfortable there,' she said. 'I'm simply dying
to talk to you, and to hear all about your wonderful country and how you
got here, and everything, but I have to do justice every morning. Such a
bore, isn't it? Do you do justice in your own country?'

'No, said Cyril; 'at least of course we try to, but not in this public
sort of way, only in private.' 'Ah, yes,' said the Queen, 'I should
much prefer a private audience myself--much easier to manage. But public
opinion has to be considered. Doing justice is very hard work, even when
you're brought up to it.'

'We don't do justice, but we have to do scales, Jane and me,' said
Anthea, 'twenty minutes a day. It's simply horrid.'

'What are scales?' asked the Queen, 'and what is Jane?'

'Jane is my little sister. One of the guards-at-the-gate's wife is
taking care of her. And scales are music.'

'I never heard of the instrument,' said the Queen. 'Do you sing?'

'Oh, yes. We can sing in parts,' said Anthea.

'That IS magic,' said the Queen. 'How many parts are you each cut into
before you do it?'

'We aren't cut at all,' said Robert hastily. 'We couldn't sing if we
were. We'll show you afterwards.'

'So you shall, and now sit quiet like dear children and hear me do
justice. The way I do it has always been admired. I oughtn't to say that
ought I? Sounds so conceited. But I don't mind with you, dears. Somehow
I feel as though I'd known you quite a long time already.'

The Queen settled herself on her throne and made a signal to her
attendants. The children, whispering together among the cushions on the
steps of the throne, decided that she was very beautiful and very kind,
but perhaps just the least bit flighty.

The first person who came to ask for justice was a woman whose brother
had taken the money the father had left for her. The brother said it
was the uncle who had the money. There was a good deal of talk and the
children were growing rather bored, when the Queen suddenly clapped her
hands, and said--

'Put both the men in prison till one of them owns up that the other is
innocent.'

'But suppose they both did it?' Cyril could not help interrupting.

'Then prison's the best place for them,' said the Queen.

'But suppose neither did it.'

'That's impossible,' said the Queen; 'a thing's not done unless someone
does it. And you mustn't interrupt.'

Then came a woman, in tears, with a torn veil