jump. It was an unfamiliar voice. "Star-gazing?" it said, pleasantly.
She turned, and recognized the King.

"Yes, Your Majesty," she answered. At first she thought she was going
to be frightened. Then she remembered the Secret, and before she knew
it she was deep in conversation with the King.

As she talked, a puzzled expression she could not see came into the
King's face. He had a wonderful memory for names, a memory which
seldom failed him; but he couldn't place this girl. And it was dark,
too, so he couldn't see her. But he liked to hear her talk. She had
that rare thing, in his experience, a fresh, sweet view-point. The
bloom of enchantment was still on life for her, and as he drew her out,
he found that she was refreshing him as nothing had done for a weary
while.

Then, kingly obligation called him indoors to join the throng whose
everlasting sameness palled on him almost unendurably. Something he
said made Mary Alice feel this--made her see, as in a flash, a girl who
had gone home, once, from a party and wept because life was so dull.
She was sorry for the King!

"I seldom forget a name," he said, "but I--before we go in, won't you
please remind me of yours?"

Mary Alice laughed. "Your Majesty has never heard my name," she said,
"and I can't go in; I'm not of the party." And she explained.

"I see," he said. "I shall have to thank the Duchess. I have had a
most refreshing quarter of an hour."