it be joy or pain."

She stepped out into the passageway and heard the tones of the organ in
the palace chapel. For the first time in her life, these sounds
displeased her. It don't belong in the house, thought she, where all
sorts of things are going on. The church ought to stand by itself.

When she returned to the room, she found a stranger there. Mademoiselle
Kramer informed her that this was the tailor to the queen.

Walpurga laughed outright at the notion of a "tailor to the queen." The
elegantly attired person looked at her in amazement, while Mademoiselle
Kramer explained to her that this was the dressmaker to her majesty the
queen, and that he had come to take her measure for three new dresses.

"Am I to wear city clothes?"

"God forbid! You're to wear the dress of your neighborhood, and can
order a stomacher in red, blue, green, or any color that you like
best."

"I hardly know what to say; but I'd like to have a workday suit, too.
Sunday clothes on week-days--that won't do."

"At court, one always wears Sunday clothes, and when her majesty drives
out again you will have to accompany her."

"All right, then. I won't object."

While the tailor took her measure, Walpurga laughed incessantly, and he
was at last obliged to ask her to hold still, so that he might go on
with his work. Putting his measure into his pocket, he informed
Mademoiselle Kramer that he had ordered an exact model, and that the
chief master of ceremonies had favored him with several drawings, so
that there might be no doubt of success.

Finally, he asked permission to see the crown prince. Mademoiselle
Kramer was about to let him do so, but Walpurga objected. "Before the
child is christened," said she, "no one shall look at it just out of
curiosity, and least of all, a tailor, or else the child will never
turn out the right sort of man."

The tailor took his leave, Mademoiselle Kramer having politely hinted
to him that nothing could be done with the superstition of the lower
orders, and that it would not do to irritate the nurse.

This occurrence induced Walpurga to administer the first serious
reprimand to Mademoiselle Kramer. She could not understand why she was
so willing to make an exhibition of the child. "Nothing does a child
more harm than to let strangers look at it in its sleep, and a tailor
at that."

All the wild fun with which, in popular songs, tailors are held up to
scorn and ridicule, found vent in Walpurga, and