"About six," she answered.
"Then I am ten."
"Then you are too little for me to play with," said Rosalind. "How old are you, father?"
"If Allan is ten I ought to be about sixteen, I suppose."
"Here's to the magician!" cried Allan, and they drank the cabinet-maker's health right merrily.
"I drink to the ring which has come to its own again," said Rosalind's father; and so the fun went on.
Celia forgot her shyness and was a happy little girl once more.
"Let us drink to the Forest and all who have learned its secret," she proposed.
In the midst of it all, Miss Betty walked in.
"Well!" she exclaimed, "I think you might have asked me."