But still the Dutch doll kept on bowing to Wooden’s aunt, and calling her your Majesty; and Wooden’s aunt enjoyed it.
Lady Grace intervened in her polite and aristocratic manner. “Don’t you know Queen Rosebud by sight?” she asked. “In calling this lady your Majesty you are coming very near to telling a story.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that, my lady,” said the Dutch doll, much shocked. “Queen Rosebud is dead, you know.”
“I feared it,” said Wooden. “It is very sad.”
Lady Grace turned pale. “She was a loving mistress and a great Queen,” she said.
Wooden’s mother said, “Yes, she was. But crying out about it won’t bring her to life again, poor thing!” And Wooden’s aunt had the grace to leave off with her nonsense, and say, “I’m sure I’m sorry to hear the news. Then who is going to be Queen now?”
“You are, your Majesty,” said the Dutch doll, bowing to her again. “King Selim is going to marry you.”
“What, marry me!” exclaimed Wooden’s aunt, forgetting to be vulgar for once, in her surprise. “Well, I never! Why, I hardly know the gentleman.”
“Surely you are making some mistake,” said Lady Grace.
The Dutch doll looked offended. “Do you think I’d tell you a lie?” he asked.