bly as an actress. She paints exceptionally well and has written
several successful books and stories, thereby following the example of
her famous predecessor on the Rumanian throne, Queen Elizabeth, better
known as Carmen Sylva. She speaks English like an Englishwoman, as well
she may, for she is a granddaughter of Queen Victoria. She is also a
descendant of the Romanoffs, for one of her grandfathers was Alexander
III of Russia. In her manner she is more simple and democratic than many
American women that I know, her poise and simplicity being in striking
contrast to the manners of two of my countrywomen who had spent the
night preceding our arrival at the castle and who were manifestly much
impressed by this contact with the Lord's Anointed. When luncheon was
announced her second daughter, Princess Marie, had not put in an
appearance. But, instead of despatching the major domo to inform her
Royal Highness that the meal was served, the Queen stepped to the foot
of the great staircase and called, "Hurry up, Mignon. You're keeping us
all waiting," whereupon a voice replied from the upper regions, "All
right, mamma. I'll be down in a minute." Not much like the picture of
palace life that the novelists and the motion-picture playwrights give
us, is it? I might add that the Queen commonly refers to the plump young
princess as "Fatty," a nickname which she hardly deserves, however. In
her conversations with me the Queen was at times almost disconcertingly
frank. "Royalty is going out of fashion," she remarked on one occasion,
"but I like my job and I'm going to do everything I can to keep it." To
Mrs. Powell she said, "I have beauty, intelligence and executive
ability. I would be successful in life if I were not a queen."

Unlike many persons who occupy exalted positions, she has a real sense
of humor.

"Yesterday," she remarked, "was Nicholas's birthday," referring to her
second son, Prince Nicholas, who, since his elder brother, Prince Carol,
renounced his rights to the throne in order to marry the girl he loved,
has become the heir apparent. "At breakfast his father remarked, 'I'm
sorry, Nicholas, but I haven't any birthday present for you. The shops
in Bucharest were pretty well cleaned out by the Germans, you know, and
I didn't remember your birthday in time to send to Paris for a present.'
'Do you really wish to give Nicholas a present, Nando?' (the diminutive
of Ferdinand) I asked him. 'Of course I do,' the King answe