“Not the King of France,” with a gentle smile. “When the Christ was born three kings came to do Him honor. And the feast is always kept.”
“The blessed Epiphany,” explained Mère Lunde. “Though why it should be given over to all this merry-making I can’t see.”
“Did you ever go?” asked Renée.
“Oh, yes. But not last year—I had started for Canada. And the year before I was up with the hunters.”
“Tell me about it.”
He sat down beside her. She was twisting the chain about her fingers.
“There is not much to do for the people who stay here in the winter, though New Orleans is twice as gay. So they have the balls. There are four queens, pretty young girls, and they each choose a king and open the ball with him. Then they dance. But the old people and a good many of the children go as well. And there is dancing and jollity and a feast of good things to eat, and much laughing and jesting and falling in love, with the marrying at Easter. Next year we will go.”
“I will keep my chain to wear then.” She put it back in the box. “And when I am well I will go down and thank grandfather.”
“Yes, yes, that will be the right thing to do. I will take you.”
Then they were silent awhile. “Tell me some of the stories you know,” she entreated.