"Beryl, don't you love the stars? You're quiet now——"
Beryl giggled.
"Robin—I just remembered! Do you realize we gave our—Queen—her own book for Christmas?"
"Beryl, as sure as anything! Oh, how funny!"
EPILOGUE
A STORY AFTER THE STORY
In a hammock hung between two leafing apple trees, a woman lay, so very still that she seemed sleeping. A fitful breeze stirred the pale foliage over her head, now and then showering her with pink petals from the lingering blossoms; from beneath her rose the damp sweet fragrance of soft earth and green grass, nearby a meadow-lark sang plaintively; somewhere a robin called arrogantly to his mate in the nest; from the valley, stretching below the sloping orchard, a violet mist lifted.
A tender smile played over the lips of the reclining woman and her eyes stared through the lacy canopy of green into the blue sky, where fleecy clouds sailed off to the west and south.