“Who are we anyhow?” asked Beth at last. “I mean who are we besides ourselves.”
“I am Mrs. Queen of Sheba,” said Helen, “and you can be Mrs. Princess of Wales.”
So it was. Royalty had set up housekeeping under the shady trees which covered the bank before the old Wells place.
Royalty is not domestic. Before a second day had passed, Mrs. Queen of Sheba grew tired of the monotony of housekeeping.
“Princess of Wales, we will take a trip around the world,” she said. “The ship is ready.” She pointed majestically to an old row boat which, water-logged and unseaworthy, lay abandoned on the beach. “We will go on board at once.”
“I am ready, Mrs. Queen of Sheba.”
An hour later, they were ship-wrecked and forced to wade ashore from mid-ocean. A little accident like this did not deter them. They were on a voyage of experience and discovery.
“While we are waiting for a ship to rescue us, let us explore the land,” said the Queen of Sheba.
“It would be the most kertish thing we could do.”
They proceeded slowly, making their way around Great Island, which the uninitiated might have called the big rock lying out well toward mid-stream. They crossed Knee-Deep Gulf and came to Cant-Wada Bay where they were forced to turn back. Along the shore, they had a horrible experience. Helen screamed and sank down, pulling Beth with her.