"Come here," she called, and Suzanna perforce obeyed. When she stood near the small figure in the chair she waited, while she decided that this was quite the prettiest old lady she had ever seen. The wavy silver hair lying under a white lace cap, with two little curls falling on either side made the blue eyes seems like a very little baby's at the stage when they're deciding just what color they shall be. Like Suzanna, the lady was dressed in white, flowing as to skirt, and trimmed with quantities of fine old lace. On her hand was one ring, a lovely moonstone. Suzanna at once loved that ring, not because it was a piece of jewelry, but because it did look like a stray moonbeam that the rain had fallen on.
"And who may you be?" asked the old lady at once.
Now something about her hostess called out all of Suzanna's colorful imagination. She felt an instant response to this personality.
"I am a princess, the Princess Cecilia," she answered promptly.
"Ah," the old lady straightened up and a sudden, vivid change became at once manifest in her manner. "Draw closer to me."
Suzanna obeyed, moving till she touched the old lady's hand that rested on the wings of the old-fashioned chair.
"You should be a princess," said the old lady, "for I am a queen!"
Suzanna gazed without at first speaking. "A real one?" she whispered at last.
"A real queen," returned the old lady. "It's not generally known by those who serve me, nor even suspected by my own son who lives yonder in the big house on the hill. But I'm the real queen of Spain, deposed from the hearts of her people, from the hearts of her own nearest."
Suzanna nodded. She looked over toward the hill. "That's Bartlett Villa," she said; "the people only live there part of the year. I know Mrs. Bartlett, she's the richest lady in Anchorville, but I didn't know her mother was a queen."