"I don't think much of that," said Gladys; "I like Ermyntrude."
"Both, then," said Marjorie; for this was a way they often settled their differences. "Her name is Princess Ermyntrude Petronella; and we call her Ermyn Pet for short."
"But we ought to call her Princess," objected Gladys.
"Well, we will. But remember we're kidnapping her for a great reward. Hist! Some one cometh!"
They hustled the carriage behind a great pine-tree, in pretended fear of a pursuer, though no one was in sight.
"How much shall we charge for ransom?" asked Gladys, in the hollow voice that they always used in their make-believe games.
"A thousand rubbles," answered Marjorie; "and unless the sum is forthcoming ere set of sun, the Princess shall be,—shall be——"
Marjorie hesitated. It seemed dreadful to pronounce fate, even in make-believe, on that dimpled, smiling bit of humanity.
"Shall be imprisoned," suggested Gladys.
"Yes, imprisoned in an enchanted castle."