“Generally where I am sitting,” answered the Queen.
“And—and I know jus' how she looks sitting dere,” said Albert; “she has a beautiful crown on her head and a long kind of veil coming down from de crown, and a kind of gold stick in her hand dat papa says is called a—a—”
“Sceptre,” suggested Marie-Celeste, coming to the rescue; “and then she wears”—for Marie-Celeste had studied the statue too—“a beautiful broad ribbon coming from one shoulder, crosswise this way to her belt, doesn't she?”
“Yes, sometimes,” said Miss Belmore.
“And on it she wears the badge of the Order of the Garter, doesn't she?”
“Yes, that is right, too; but what do two little people like you know about the Order of the Garter?”
“We know all dere is,” said Albert grandly; “we had a Knight-of-the-Garter day las' week;” and then recalling the matter of the foolish little garter, his face grew crimson, and he begged Marie-Celeste not to tell.
“What do you mean by a Knight-of-the-Garter day?” said the Queen, smiling at Albert's embarrassment and keenly enjoying the novelty of the situation.
“Why, it was a day,” Marie-Celeste explained, “when we came to the castle here and went into the different rooms and then into St. George's Chapel, and Harold Harris, my cousin, who lives here, and who has read up a great deal about the knights, told us all he knew about them. But there is one thing,” added Marie-Celeste, changing the subject, because unwilling that so important an occasion should be to any extent devoted to any mere narrating of their own childish doings, “I would very much like to know, and that is, if Victoria is ever called Madame La Grande Reine?”
“Why no, my dear, I don't know that she is,” said Her Majesty; “but what a little French woman you seem to be.” At this Albert rudely clapped one little hand over his mouth, as though to keep from laughing outright. Marie-Celeste a little French woman! Why he didn't believe she knew more than a dozen French words to her name.