times, and come out with a quantity of tissue paper all safe. Something
has to be scarified to royalty, child."

Phronsie sighed again. But as Polly approved of royalty so highly, she
immediately lent herself to the anticipations of the pleasure before
her, smothering all lesser considerations.

"When you get your little silver cap on with one of Auntie's diamond
rings sewed in it, why, you'll be too magnificent for anything," said
Polly, now pulling and patting with fresh enthusiasm, since the "purple
dash" was forthcoming.

"Princesses don't wear silver caps with diamond rings sewed in them,"
observed Phronsie wisely.

"Of course not; they have diamonds by the bushel, and don't need to sew
rings in their caps to make them sparkle," said Polly, plaiting and
pinning rapidly, "but in dressing up for a play, we have to take a
poetic license. There, turn just one bit to the right, Phronsie dear."

"What's poetic license?" demanded Phronsie, wrenching her imagination
off from the bushel of diamonds to seize practical information.

"Oh! when a man writes verses and says things that aren't so," said
Polly, her mind on the many details before her.

"But he ought not to," cried Phronsie, with wide eyes, "say things that
are not so. I thought poets were always very good, Polly."

"Oh! well, people let him," said Polly, carelessly, "because he puts it