"ON Pincian Hill my father feeds his flocks," remarked Frieda pensively one afternoon several days later.
And while Ruth, Jack and Jean tried their best to keep from laughing aloud, Olive had to explain.
"It was not Pincian hills but Grampian, Frieda dear, and the speech refers to Greece and not Italy."
But Frieda was too blissfully happy and deliciously entertained to care either about her mistakes or the cause of the others' laughter.
For at last the Ranch girls were having afternoon tea in the beautiful gardens of the Pincio. Near them a military band was playing, and in their vicinity apparently most of the best people in Rome, besides the summer travelers, had gathered. There were hundreds of carriages moving to and fro and stopping now and then while friends exchanged greetings. A short half hour ago little King Victor Emmanuel, whose stature is the only small part of him, and his beautiful big Queen had driven by, giving the four girls and their chaperon one of the most delightful thrills of their whole trip. For no matter how good Democrats we Americans are at heart, the first sight of royalty cannot fail to be interesting. It is only after the royal persons have been viewed often enough and long enough that they appear like ordinary persons.
Then, beneath the hill of the Pincio, lay the most wonderful of all the panoramas of Rome. There was St. Peter's again (and already the Ranch party had spent one entire day in this largest and perhaps most beautiful church in the world). There the castle of St. Angelo, the roof of the Pantheon, and innumerable other churches and towers, which Ruth even after an almost painful study of her map of Rome was not able to name. But more fascinating than the buildings, at least to Jacqueline Ralston's outdoor loving vision, were the far-off hills with their groupings of cypress, palms and pines.
The Rainbow Ranch party had found seats at a table not far from the small café in the center of the gardens. And although delectable sweets were being served to them, together with very poor tea, not even Frieda had been able to display her usual appetite.
Unexpectedly a hand was placed on Jean Bruce's shoulder, and turning in surprise she saw standing by her side no other person than the Princess Colonna! If Jean had thought her American-Italian Princess beautiful on shipboard, the sight of her now in her Parisian toilet almost took away her breath. Waiting a few feet away were her companions, two young Italians of about twenty and twenty-five years of age, besides an elderly man, who was nearer sixty years old than half a century.
"I thought my little Miss Bruce was to let me know when she and her friends reached Rome," the Princess began, shaking hands with Ruth and the other three girls, while continuing to smile upon Jean. "Is it that you do not wish more of my society?"
Jean, having regained her self-possession, shook her head. "That is such a ridiculous question I shan't pretend to answer it," she returned. "It is only that we have been such a few days in Rome and thought perhaps you—"