Suzanna was silent. Indeed, she was at a loss just how to offer comfort.
When Helen, Peter's twin, went away her heart had ached, and when a
little baby, soft and cuddly had gone away forever, Suzanna had wept for
days and far into the nights. This queen, she found was very sad, and
very longing, and very lonely, three things she thought queenhood exempt
from, sadness, and longing and loneliness.

Once more they turned, and walked down the garden path till they reached
the chairs under the tree. The queen sank again among her pillows and
Suzanna was about to use her camp chair when the queen spoke in her old
commanding manner:

"I am hungry, serf," she cried. "Go, prepare my food! All the dainties
that you can find. I wish cream beaten to a froth and peaches, halved
and stoned. I wish strawberries still wet with dew and reposing in their
green leaves."

"But," began Suzanna, "I can't get strawberries for you."

The old lady rose to her full height. "Wilt begone, serf?" in stern
accents she cried. "Wilt begone and prepare what I demand?"

Now Suzanna had a very firm idea of her own standing as a princess. Had
she not earlier in the day impressed Maizie? And now, was this stranger,
even though she were a queen, to demand menial service of one of royal
blood? Suzanna thought not. So she said firmly, though gently:

"I am not a serf, if that means a slave! I am a visiting princess, the
Princess Cecilia. I will not go into your kitchen and prepare food." And
then forgetting her rôle, she assumed her ordinary voice. "Why, this