Bud stared at him a moment thoughtfully.
“Tell him I want to be left alone to talk with my sister Fluff,” he replied.
Jikki again bowed low and withdrew, closing the door behind him, and then the children looked at each other solemnly, until Meg burst into a merry laugh.
“Oh, Bud!” she cried, “think of it! I’m the royal Princess Fluff, and you’re the King of all Noland! Isn’t it funny!” And then she danced about the room in great delight.
Bud answered her seriously.
“What does it all mean, Fluff?” he said. “We’re only poor children, you know; so I can’t really be a king. And I wouldn’t be surprised if Aunt Rivette came in any minute and boxed my ears.”
“Nonsense!” laughed Margaret. “Didn’t you hear what that fat, periwigged man said about the law? The old king is dead, and some one else had to be king, you know; and the forty-seventh person who entered the east gate was you, Bud, and so by law you are the king of all this great country. Don’t you see?”
Bud shook his head and looked at his sister.
“No, I don’t see,” he said. “But if you say it’s all right, Fluff, why, it must be all right.”
“Of course it’s all right,” declared the girl, throwing off her pretty cloak and placing it on a chair. “You’re the rightful king, and can do whatever you please; and I’m the rightful princess, because I’m your sister; so I can do whatever I please. Don’t you see, Bud?”