were, reluctantly. Having to be in character, his way is to tread heavily
on the border-line which divides familiarity from respect._)

QUEEN. Not yet.

MR. J.B. (_departing_). I'll bring it for ye, now.

QUEEN. You had better send it.

J.B. (_turning about_). What did ye say? ... Ma'am.

QUEEN. "Send it," Brown, I said. Mop mustn't be hurried. Take him round by
the stables.

(_He goes: and the Queen, with a soft, indulgent smile, that slowly
flickers out as the labour of composition proceeds, resumes her
writing_.)

(_Presently_ ENTERS _a liveried Footman, who stands at attention
with the paper upon a salver. Touching the table at her side as an
indication, the Queen continues to write. With gingerly reverence the man
lays down the paper and goes. Twice she looks at it before taking it up;
then she unfolds it; then lays it down, and takes out her glasses; then
begins reading. Evidently she comes on something she does not like; she
pats the table impatiently, then exclaims_:)

Most extraordinary!

(_A wasp settles on the peaches._)