"'Tis Sir Percevall Hart, harbinger to the Queen, I ween," Clarissa replied.
"Gracious!" said Rebecca, anxiously. "I do hope now he ain't bringin' any very bad news!"
"Wherefore should he, your Highness?" said Clarissa.
"Why, if he's a harbinger of woe—ain't that what they call 'em?" she spoke, with some timidity.
"Nay," said the Lady Margaret. "Sir Percevall is reputed a wit and a pleasant companion, your Highness. He is harbinger to the Queen."
"An' who's the man with him in black togs an' rumpled stockin's?" said Rebecca. "The one holdin' the bicycle?"
"Mean you him holding the two bright wheels, your Highness?"
"Yes."
Lady Margaret could not answer, nor could any of the other attendants. Could Rebecca have had a more advantageous view of the stranger, she would herself have been the only one in the palace to recognize him. She could only see his hat and his borrowed clothes, however, and her curiosity remained unsatisfied.
"That looks like Copernicus Droop's wheel," she muttered. "I wonder ef somebody's ben an' stole it while he was away. 'Twould serve him right fer givin' me the slip."