"No, my pearl of price," said Fitz, swinging the mite up to his snow-covered face, "but she will be here soon. She has sent you this."
He kissed the small elf, who had all the disdain of a princess and the witchery of a fairy.
"Who is dis?" said she, pointing at me with her doll.
"Dis, my jewel of the east, is our kind friend Mr. Arbuthnot. If you are very nice to him he will stay to tea."
"Do you like my mama, Mistah 'Buthnot?" said the latest scion of Europe's oldest dynasty, with a directness which was disconcerting from a person of four.
"Very much indeed," said I, warmly.
"You can stay to tea, Mistah 'Buthnot. I like you vewy much."
The prompt cordiality of the verdict was certainly pleasant to a humble unit of a monarchical country. The creature extended her tiny paw with a gesture so superb that there was only one thing left for a courtier to do. That was to kiss it.
The owner of the paw seemed to be much gratified by this discreet action.
"I like you vewy much, Mistah 'Buthnot; I will tell you my name."