every once in a while, by remembering the Secret, she got on happy
terms with some of them.

And at last a very unusual thing happened. The King was coming to
honour the Duke and Duchess with a visit; coming to see one of those
ancient and glorious estates the like of which no king owns, and which
are the pride of all the kingdom. Many sovereigns had stayed at this
splendid old place on England's south coast--a place as famous for its
beauty as for its six hundred years of history; so it was no unusual
thing for it to house a king. The unusual part of it all was Mary
Alice being there. By the King's permission a wonderful house party
was asked to meet him. Godmother couldn't be asked; she had never been
presented, and the King was unaware of her existence. The Duchess
would not have dared to present Godmother's name on the list submitted
to the King. Much less, therefore, would she have dared to present
Mary Alice's. "But----!" said the Duchess, and went on to unfold a
plan.

If Mary Alice would not mind staying on with the Duchess while
Godmother paid another visit; and if she would not mind having a room
somewhere in a remote wing; and would not mind not being asked to
mingle with the party in any way, she might see something of such
sights as perhaps she would never be able to see otherwise. Mary Alice
was delighted partly because she wanted to see the sights and partly
because the thought of going away from this wonderful place made her
heart ache. So she was moved out of the fine guest suite she and
Godmother had been lodged in, and over to a room in a far wing of the
vast house. From this wing one could look down on to the terraces for
which the love and genius of none other than quaint John
Evelyn--greatest of England's Garden Philosophers--were responsible.