“Rocks and mountains and all,” said the Princess. “But they are so stiff they don’t give very much. But the sea yields easily, and the water heaps up toward the moon, and pulls away from the shore behind it; then when the moon passes on, it flattens out again. If we were down on the sand before every bit of the hard is covered up, I could draw something to show it plainer, in about two seconds, on the way back. But there’s no time to waste.”
So, without wasting any time, they left the old Wreck deep in the sand and water, with the waves running in from the Ocean and hurrying by it—on to the land. And when they found a hard place, the Princess drew the large round Earth with the sea humping up on the side of it toward the small round moon. And she drew several moons on several sides, to show how the hump would follow, and make the tide; but it was all one moon—only gone along a little farther. And she said it was truly the Earth that whirled in the middle, not the moon going around; but they weren’t to bother about that—and they didn’t.
VI
THE BEE BABY
“The pleasure of your company to drink tea with the Princess,” it said. And the Others left all their occupations and came at once.
She was expecting them, with the little tea-table set out and ready; but they might wash their hands in the Princess’s own bath-room, and have verbena water out of a tall bottle on them, if they liked; and they did—a great deal.
ANDROMEDA
“Poor Andromeda!” said the Princess. “She must have wished she had been born with piggy eyes and a turned-up nose when she found what came of her beauty. Here she is: chained to the rock, waiting for the sea monster to come and devour her, but still lovely.”
“She isn’t chained now?” said Pat. “In the sky?”
“Dear me, no! Never, since Perseus happened along with Medusa’s head in his wallet, and turned the sea monster into a rock. But this is the way they stand to be looked at,—a tableau, with Perseus coming to the rescue, and Cassiopeia looking on, thinking what a lucky escape they had, and that her child is truly much lovelier than any Nymph whatever. But she isn’t talking about it any more.”
“Perhaps she would have thought so, just the same, if Andromeda had looked piggy,” observed Phyllisy.
“Very true, Madam Owl,” agreed the Princess. “But whether or no, she certainly has four undeniably beautiful stars to wear—if anybody will find them for her.”
The “tea” was in a high, cool, clinking pitcher of strange colored glass that let the light shine through, and it was golden and yet pinky, and tasted of fruits, but no kind any one could say. But they could have it in a teacup if they would rather. (The teapot was there too, by courtesy, to look on.) The Princess sat beside the table to pour it, with wide lace hanging over her arms, and coming out from under, but not catching when she handled the fragile cups, because she knew how—very deftly.
Pat chose a yellow cup, with butterflies and tiny roses, and Miss Phyllisy took one, white and very thin, with a dragon coiled around it and a red curly handle; but the Kitten had hers in a tall glass like the pitcher, and so did the Princess. And there were delicious little cakes, the kind the Princess had, and never any one else. It was most refreshing and restful to hot little girls out of a garden.