"Always it is so."
"Pippa," he said—but checked the remainder of his words. He placed the pipe in his mouth and ran five-finger exercises at a terrific speed.
"Pippa," he said again, then, ceasing his display of virtuosity, leaned back and gazed at her from beneath his eyebrows. "Next spring, on the Tuesday after Easter, I will come for you."
She caught her breath deliriously.
"Beyond the village road," he went on, speaking slowly and distinctly, "I saw a big pasture-field at the top of the hill. Be there as the sun is just above the horizon, and I will come in an aeroplane."
"And, your Majesty, you will take me to your kingdom?"
"For one day, Pippa, to the great city of London—the city that is open to all who possess a golden key. We shall return by the stars at night."
"Then"—her voice shook, and the brilliancy of her eyes was softened by sudden tears, as the rays of an August sun are sometimes tempered by a shower, "then—at last—I am to see the world—boys and girls and palaces and——"
"To say nothing of prunes and potentates."
"Oh, but, your Majesty, it is too wonderful. I am certain it will not come true."