he added: "Fear nothing; the man who hurts a hair of Her Majesty's head
dies by this hand. Ah! ha!"

The others all said ha! ha! and danced alternately on one leg and then
on the other, but always with the same dark resemblance to Christy
Minstrels. Brother Step-and-Fetch-It, whose very long beard had a
confusing suggestion of being a part of the leader's buffalo robe,
lifted her gently in his arms and carried her to the Red Rovers in turn.
Each one bestowed a kiss upon her cheek or forehead, and would have
taken her in his arms, or on his knees, or otherwise lingered over
his salute, but they were sternly restrained by their leader. When the
solemn rite was concluded, Step-and-Fetch-It paid his own courtesy
with an extra squeeze of the curly head, and deposited her again in the
truck, a little frightened, a little astonished, but with a considerable
accession to her dignity. Hickory and Patsey looked on with stupefied
amazement. Wan Lee alone remained stolid and unimpressed, regarding the
scene with calm and triangular eyes.

"Will Your Majesty see the Red Rovers dance?"

"No, if you please," said Polly, with gentle seriousness.

"Will Your Majesty fire this barrel of gunpowder, or tap this breaker of
grog?"

"No, I thank you."

"Is there no command Your Majesty would lay upon us?"

"No, please," said Polly, in a failing voice.