‘Am I to try to tame it now?’ Elsie asked.
‘Oh dear no,’ said the Crow. ‘We’ll have a banquet in your honour, and you shall have tea with the Princess.’
‘How do you know who is a princess and who’s not, if you’re all crows?’ Elsie cried.
[p195]
‘How do you know one human being from another?’ the Crow replied. ‘Besides … Come on to the Palace.’
It led her along the terrace, and down some marble steps to a small arched door. ‘The tradesmen’s entrance,’ it explained. ‘Excuse it—the courtiers are crowding in by the front door.’ Then through long corridors and passages they went, and at last into the throne-room. Many crows stood about in respectful attitudes. On the golden throne, leaning a gloomy head upon the first joint of his right wing, the Sovereign of Crownowland was musing dejectedly. A little girl of about Elsie’s age sat on the steps of the throne nursing a handsome doll.
‘Who is the little girl?’ Elsie asked.
‘Curtsey! That’s the Princess,’ the Prime Minister Crow whispered; and Elsie made the best curtsey she could think of in such a hurry. ‘She wasn’t wicked enough to be turned into a crow, or poor enough to be turned into a pigeon, so she remains a dear little girl, just as she always was.’
The Princess dropped her doll and ran down the steps of the throne to meet Elsie.
‘You dear!’ she said. ‘You’ve come to play with me, haven’t you? All the little girls I used to play with have turned into crows, and [p196 their beaks are so awkward at doll’s tea-parties, and wings are no good to nurse dollies with. Let’s have a doll’s tea-party now, shall we?’
‘May we?’ Elsie looked at the Crow King, who nodded his head hopelessly. So, hand in hand, they went.