“In London! I know, but we’re not leaving here yet, are we?” Nan’s voice was almost pleading. “Not when we’ve just come.”
“Yes, lass, that you are.” James Blake was regretful, too. “But you’ll be coming back.”
“But why, why must we leave so soon?” Nan had learned just enough in her morning adventures about the grounds to make her want to explore every inch of the old castle. She had even considered, on her walk down the road and through the fields to the fateful gatehouse, the possibility of staying in Emberon through the coronation.
She had toyed with the idea of giving up the great London celebration so that she could live in the castle for a while. She had dismissed the thought, of course. Mr. and Mrs. Mason and Walter were to be in London. She was to meet the friends she had made on the boat there, and the London celebration at the crowning of the new King and Queen would be, she knew, grander than anything she had ever seen.
She wanted to go on to London and she wanted to stay here in Emberon, too! These things all rushed through her mind as she stood in the great old Hall talking to James Blake.
“Yes, lass,” he repeated, “you’ve got to go. There’s something waiting there for you that’s far greater than anything that’s ever happened to you before.
“You, in America, I don’t know what you play when you are wee tots, but the children here are kings and queens when they play. A wooden box is their throne. With a lace curtain as a train for the queen then, and gold paper for a crown, they have all the trappings of royalty. All take part. Some are aids to the king. Others, to the queen.
“They live and breathe this from the time they first begin to notice things around them. So when the old king dies and the new king and queen come to live at Buckingham Palace and go to Westminster Cathedral to have the state crowns, gold with all sorts of precious jewels in them, put on their heads and the state swords put in their hands, then all the wee tots pretend they are ladies-in-waiting to the queen or gentlemen attendants of the king.
“When they see the grand pictures every place of the crowning at Westminster, they imagine themselves giving a sword to the king or helping to arrange the train of the queen. Aye, in imagination they are all there in that beautiful Cathedral helping with the service.
“But actually, only a few are so honored in real life. The privilege to assist at the crowning of the English king is passed down by great families from generation to generation.” He paused here to let the young lassies get the full importance of his words.