'You leave that to me. I've an idea, something much better than your silly tea-parties.'
'Why doesn't he tell that child to go?' thought Ethelinda, 'we don't want her!'
'Now listen, Winifred,' said Archie: 'this is the game. You're a beautiful queen (only do sit up and take that finger out of your mouth—queens don't do that). Well, and I'm the king, and this is your maid of honour, the beautiful Lady Ethelinda, see?'
'Go on, Archie; I see,' cried Winifred; 'and I like it so far.'
'I think I ought to have been the queen!' said Ethelinda to herself.
'Well, now,' said the boy, 'I'll tell you something. This maid of honour of yours doesn't like you (don't say she does, now; I'm telling this, and I know). You watch her carefully. Can't you see a sort of look in her face as if she didn't think much of you?'
'How clever he is,' thought Ethelinda; 'he knows exactly how I feel!'
'Do you really think it's that, Archie?' said Winifred; 'it's just what I was afraid of before you came in.'
'That's it. Look out for a kind of glare in her eye when I pay you any attention. (How does Your Majesty do? Well, I hope.) There, didn't you see it? Well, that's jealousy, that is. She hates you like anything!'
'I'm sure she doesn't, then,' protested Winifred.