"Most Noble Lady Griselda of the Castle of the Lonely Lake," it ran. "There is a favor which I could receive at the hands of your ladyship which would give me the keenest pleasure, and your generous offer makes me bold to ask it. I have heard that you write poems. Will you be so very kind as to send me some of your work through the post-office? I should be most grateful for the favor, and treasure the poems as a precious memento of your ladyship's goodness."
This letter threw Margery into an agony of excitement.
"Who told him?" she demanded sternly, looking with dilated eyes over the edge of the missive.
"I may have just mentioned that you wrote poetry that day that we went fishing," said Jack sheepishly. "What's the harm, Peggy?"
"Yes, what's the harm?" echoed Amy, who was much impressed by the request. "You do write poetry, and it's lovely."
"Oh, don't be a goose, Margery; there's no harm in Mr. Dean knowing about it," said Trix. "Anyway, he does know, and you've got to send him some, so what shall it be?"
"I have to do it, but I don't like to," sighed Margery, tasting the trials of geniuses with indiscreet friends. "What shall I send him?"
"'The Knight,'" said Jack promptly.
"'Rome,'" said Trix.