“Look like a ‘W,’ don’t they, Pat?—But there’s another star—very pale—and another off here. Now, see—tipped up—so—Isn’t that a pretty good chair? How would you like to sit there and overlook things?”
“Cassiopeia wouldn’t let her,” said Prudence. “That’s Cassiopeia’s Chair, Pat. She doesn’t allow any one to sit in it.”
“I don’t want to.” Pat spoke in a loud whisper.
“That is where you’re mistaken, Miss Phyllisy,” said the Princess. “She wouldn’t mind a bit. But she is sitting there herself, this minute.”
“Really, Princess? I didn’t know that!”
“Did you ever see her out of it?” (Miss Phyllisy giggled.) “There is one of the stars on her most loftical head. Do you see it?”
“Who said it was that?” asked Pat. Her manner was a trifle threatening, but she was ready to be friends.
“Said what?”
“Cas—what you called it. Why did you call it that?”
“Cassiopeia’s Chair? That is what it was named long and long ago.”