"I think you might have let me tell that story," says Amy, indignantly. "You knew I wanted to tell her that story."
"I didn't," with equal indignation; "and, besides, you told her about the fairies' ball-room. I said nothing about that."
"Well, at all events," says Georgie, "they were two of the prettiest stories I ever heard in my life. I don't know which was the prettier."
"Now, look at that tree," breaks in Amy, hurriedly, feeling it is honestly her turn now, and fearing lest Ethel shall cut in before her. "King Charles the Second spent the whole of one night in that identical tree."
"Not the whole of it," puts in Ethel, unwisely.
"Now, I suppose this is my story, at all events," declares Amy, angrily, "and I shall just tell it as I like."
"Poor King Charles!" says Georgie, with a laugh, "If we are to believe all the stories we hear, half his lifetime must have been spent 'up a tree.'"
A stone balcony runs before the front of the house. On it stands Clarissa, as they approach, but, seeing them, she runs down the steps and advances eagerly to meet them.
"Come in," she says. "How late you are! I thought you had proved faithless and were not coming at all."
"Ah! what a lovely hall!" says Georgie, as they enter, stopping in a childishly delighted fashion to gaze round her.