“No,” said the Queen, repressing a smile, “we are not military people.”
“But at least you are Castilians?”
“Yes,” returned the Queen promptly; “we are girls from Madrid.”
“And do you like this part?” queried the interlocutor.
“Very much,” replied the Queen. “It is very cheerful.”
“Well,” continued the peasant, with frank familiarity, “sit down a bit and see the lads dance.”
“Thank you very much,” replied the Queen, “but we must be going.”
“You will have noticed,” rejoined the peasant, “that the roads are very bad, and you will get very tired. These mountains are only fit for strong feet, and not little delicate ones like yours.”
“Never mind,” returned Isabel; “we like to accustom ourselves to everything. You don’t know, then, who we are?”
“It is not easy to guess,” was the answer; “but you are certainly daughters of people of position and money.”