Peggy knew that it must be the Queen, directly she saw her. Indeed, it was surprising that neither Mr. nor Mrs. Emma had guessed who the prisoner on the top story really was.
For she looked very royal. She was most delicately made of wax, and looked a little faded, which would have been accounted for by her great age. But she was beautiful, too, with young features; for, of course, dolls do not grow old like human beings, and when they are in Toyland even breakages do not count.
She looked very royal
She wore a dress of rich brocade embroidered with seed pearls, rather like those that you see in pictures of Queen Elizabeth. It was quite possible that she might have been born about the same time as Queen Elizabeth, which would have made her very interesting, if she had had a good memory, and could have talked about all the changes she had seen. But dolls’ memories are short, and Peggy did not find out how old the Queen really was, and, indeed, it would not have been good manners to ask.
When Peggy came in with the tea-tray, the Queen looked surprised, and said, in a sad but gentle voice, “Who are you? Have you come to take me home? Why am I kept locked up here?”
Peggy put the tray down on the table, and said, “I am Peggy, your Majesty. Wooden brought me to Toyland. You said that she might.”
“Why do you call me your Majesty?” asked the Queen. “They said that if anybody called me that, or I told anybody who I was, I should be locked up in a dungeon where I could not see the light.”
Peggy felt desperately sorry for her. She had called her “Your Majesty” quite naturally, for she was very royal, both in appearance and manner, although she was only a doll. It seemed quite dreadful that she should be locked up there, and be threatened with still worse imprisonment, and for no fault of her own at all.
“I know that you are the Queen,” Peggy said, “and I hope that you will soon be back in your beautiful palace again. They are making plans outside to rescue you.”