Standing to the right of the Queen's chair was a dark man of foreign aspect, wearing the robes of a Doctor of Laws. In his hand was Rebecca's copy of the New York World, which he was perusing with an expression of the utmost perplexity.
"Well, Master Guido," said the Queen, "what make you of it?"
"Maestà eccellentissima—" the scholar began.
"Nay—nay. Speak good plain English, man," said the Queen. "The Lady Rebecca hath no Italian."
Messer Guido bowed and began again, speaking with a scarcely perceptible accent.
"Most Excellent Majesty, I have but begun perusal of this document. It promiseth matter for ten good years' research in the comparison of parts, interpretation of phrases, identifying customs, manners, dress, and the like."
"Nay, then," said the Queen, "with the help of the Lady Rebecca, 'twill be no weighty task, methinks. My lady, why partake you not of the pasty?" she said, turning to Rebecca. "Hath it not a very proper savor?"
"My, yes," Rebecca replied; "it's mighty good pie! Somehow, though, pie don't lay very good with me these days. Ye don't happen to have any tea, do ye?"
"Tea!"
"If I may venture—" said Guido, eagerly.