"And speaking of starving!" Jean exclaimed, clasping her hands together in a dramatic fashion and gazing at Frieda who now appeared as hungry as she had been sleepy a few moments before.
But although Ruth and the three Ranch girls had done their best to make her remain so, Frieda was not a baby. She turned to their new-found acquaintance. Something in her sister's face showed at least a part of the strain which her family had been under.
"I am afraid I hardly know how to thank you, Mrs.—Miss—" she hesitated.
"She isn't a Miss or a Mrs. either; she is a Princess!" Jean whispered, supposing that no one else could overhear her. However, seeing Frieda shake her head with indignation over her cousin's continued teasing, the four women, including the Princess, laughed in chorus.
"I am a Princess, really, Frieda, but my title does not mean anything serious in Italy. And I hope you may not like me any the less well for it."
The girls noticed that the Princess had spoken as informally to Frieda as though she were one of them, but now as she turned toward Ruth again her manner changed.
"For the second time let me bid you good-night and offer my congratulations," she said.
And there again was the coldness, the hauteur and the superiority, which Jean had resented before their misfortune had awakened the young woman's sympathy.
In the midst of a murmur of thanks from every one else in the room, Jean quietly opened the door for their visitor. But it was hardly possible for the Princess successfully to pass two large men bearing enormous trays of dishes in their outstretched arms.
"Dinner!" Jean murmured soulfully, forgetting her new-found dignity.