"Of course," she said scornfully. "Do you think I'm a baby?"
"Don't be angry—don't," the girl pleaded. "I don't mean to frighten you—your Majesty, I mean—but I am so excited, and—and I don't quite do what I intend to do or say just what I mean. I am quite all right now. You see, that gardener—he isn't really a gardener." She watched Caroline narrowly, quite unprepared for the sudden delight in her eyes.
"Oh, he's pretending, too!" cried Mary of Scots joyfully. "What is he, really?"
"He's—he's one of my jailers," said the girl somberly. "And the first thing he would do would be to stop up your hole under the fence."
"Oh!" Caroline stared respectfully at the gardener, not far from them now.
"Were you ever in chains?" she said, in an awed voice.
"No," said Joan of Arc, "I never was. I wouldn't be in this—this fortress if I had to be in chains. This is for well-behaved prisoners."
"Is Marie Antoinette a prisoner, too?"
"Yes," said the girl, wearily, "she is. And she has kept me one. I should not be here now but for her. She prevented my escape."
"The mean old thing!" Caroline cried, indignantly, "did she tell?"