Chapter XVII
Maida stared in astonishment, but the ugly old woman was Queen Aurora Borealis beyond a doubt. On her head she wore a great golden crown, and as Maida stared at her the same blinding white light flashed from it straight up to the sky, and everybody was pleased because the Queen was pleased.
Aurora stopped and smiled. I wish I could describe that smile, but it would take three painters and a photographer to do it justice.
“Good-morning, my children!” she cried, “Who is the Queen of Beauty?” And altogether everybody said, “You are.”
Aurora smiled still more.
“Who is the Pride of Illusia?” she asked. Again a chorus arose, “You, divine Queen!”
“Yes, of course!” smirked Aurora; and then looking directly at Maida, she added, “a little louder over there.”
The eyes of the multitude turned toward the stranger and Maida realized she must speak. “You, divine Queen!” she quavered.
“Don’t be so piano in your praise,” remarked Aurora, “a little enthusiasm goes a long way.” Then turning to her subjects, she added: “Do you know my children, I envy you.”