Mary drew a quick breath.
"But you serve King William."
"I know," he answered dutifully. "He is a soldier, father saith. I would like to be a soldier, ma'am."
Mary smiled; though she had done with his cravat she still kept her hands lightly on his shoulder.
"Not a wood-carver?"
He shook his head.
"Father saith, 'Better be a soldier these days—there is no living else,'" he quoted wisely.
"There is time enough to decide," said Mary softly; her ringed right hand timidly caressed his hair, scarcely touching it. "Have you many toys?"
"No, ma'am."
"Do you care for them?"