"Have we dramatic talent, Mother?"
"Not to any astonishing degree. But, yes, I suppose your fondness for playing at court life and such things shows a dramatic taste."
"Oh, it's great fun, Mother! I just love to sit on that throne with my long trail wopsed on the floor beside me, and my sceptre sticking up, and my courtiers all around me,—oh, Mother, I think I'd like to be a real queen!"
"Well, you see, Midget, you were born in a country that doesn't employ queens."
"And I'm glad of it!" cried Marjorie, patriotically. "Hooray! for the land of the free and the home of the brave! I guess I don't care to be a real queen, I guess I'll be a president's wife instead. Say, Mother, won't you and Father write us some poems for The Jolly Sandboy?"
"What is that, Midget?"
"Oh, it's our court journal,—and you and Father do write such lovely poetry. Will you, Mother?"
"Yes, I 'spect so."
"Oh, goody! When you say 'I 'spect so,' you always do. Hey, King, Rosy Posy ought to have a sandy kind of a name, even if she doesn't come to our court meetings."
"'Course she ought. And she can come sometimes, if she doesn't upset things."