Looking into the kitchen her eyes fell upon the laundry basket with the pink dress on top. “I could borrow Mrs. Hollingsworth’s tea gown,” she said.
Now Charity might make slips in grammar and slap unoffending dolls, but the laundry was sacred to her. Once the pile of muslin was ironed and placed in the basket it was not to be tampered with.
“You daren’t,” she said.
Hazel walked into the other room, took the pink wrapper and slowly put it on. Her heart beat fast and her fingers trembled, but she fastened the dress at the throat and held it up about her. Entering the parlor she went to the chair in which King Solomon sat, and bowed low, dropping the pink dress so that it trailed upon the floor. Then she looked up into the king’s dark face.
“Isn’t this a royal great train?” she said softly.
King Solomon nodded. He was saying to himself, “You bet, my mother needn’t say she’s such a good little girl again!”
The Queen of Sheba bowed once more. “What do I do next, Charity?”
“You ask me questions.”
“I can’t think of any;” and the queen, like Alice in Through the Looking Glass, courtesied again to help her think. “What did I have for dinner?” she said at last.
“Myrrh and mint and jasper and honey and the honeycomb.”