Daphne was passing through the upper gallery, on her way to join the other ladies-in-waiting in the Tapestry Chamber, when she heard a commotion in the great hall below, and, looking down over the balustrade, was astonished to see two inanimate female forms being carried by attendants into the vestibule. Baron von EisenbÄnden, who was directing them, caught sight of her and beckoned. On descending the jasper staircase, she found him beaming with satisfaction, surrounded by a host of courtiers, guards, and pages.

"All will be well now, my Lady Daphne," he whispered confidentially. "I have brought hither two noble dames to persuade the Princess to renounce this ill-omened alliance—the Grand Duchess of Gleneagle and Margravine of Muscombe, her Majesty's dearest and most intimate friends. She will surely be overjoyed when I announce their arrival."

Somehow Daphne could not share his certainty. Queen Selina had been careful not to dwell too much, in her presence, on these aristocratic acquaintances, and they certainly had not visited "Inglegarth" while she had been an inmate of the household.

"If I were you, Baron," she said diplomatically, "I should send away all these people before I told her Majesty. I am sure she would rather welcome her friends in private."

He accepted the suggestion, cleared the hall, and bustled away, after committing the still unconscious visitors to Daphne's care.

She found them laid side by side on couches in the vestibule, which was a lofty chamber, panelled in ivory and ebony, with inset opals of enormous size and a ceiling of dull silver. The Duchess was a short, spare, grey-haired and rather homely-looking woman in a black demi-toilette with priceless old lace. Lady Muscombe was about twenty-six, tall, with a beautiful figure and a pale, piquant face; she wore a rose charmeuse gown that scintillated with paillettes; her luxuriant, but just then slightly dishevelled, chestnut hair was confined in a sparkling band, from which drooped a crushed pink plume.

As they seemed on the point of awaking, Daphne, thinking that they would probably prefer to do so unobserved, discreetly left them to themselves.

Lady Muscombe was the first to recover. She sat up, stretched her white and shapely arms, and yawned widely, revealing her perfect teeth, as she regarded the Duchess with sleepy brown eyes.

"I suppose you are the Duchess of Gleneagles?" she said. "And, if you don't mind, I should rather like to know why you've brought me here—wherever it is."

"I?" said the Duchess. "I've had nothing to do with bringing you. Don't even know who you are—though you seem to have got hold of my name."

"Why, I married Muscombe—the Marquis, don't you know. I dare say you knew before that I was Verity Stilton of the Vivacity. I was working my way up to quite important parts. You may have seen me in some of them?"

"I have not had that advantage. I seldom visit a theatre, and when I do——"

"You like to go and see something stuffy? I know. And I expect you've got quite a wrong idea of Musical Comedy. Most of us in the Chorus at the Vivacity were ladies by birth. And we didn't mix with the others, off the stage. We were most particular, too. I assure you I never went to sup alone with Nibbles—I call Muscombe 'Nibbles,' you know—he's so exactly like a white mouse—I never supped with him alone till after we were regularly engaged."

"That is most interesting," said the Duchess, "and entirely to your credit, but it doesn't explain how we came to be here together."

"All I can say is that a queerly dressed old freak suddenly burst into my flat, just as I was going to dine at the Carlton, and told me you were waiting outside in a car to take me on a visit to the Queen."

"And did not that strike you as slightly improbable?"

"Oh, for anything I knew, you might be another of Nibbles's aunts. I haven't nearly worked through all his relations yet. But I said at once that I couldn't throw over my Carlton party to oblige any Duchess on earth. And then the old creature put on a cap and vanished. And the next thing I knew was that a cloak was thrown over my head and I was being lifted up and bundled out kicking—and that's all I remember. I don't know what they thought of me in Mount Street, or why nobody interfered."

"Much the same thing happened to me," said the Duchess. "Only I was told that the Queen wished to see me at once on an urgent matter. Of course, as the messenger's appearance did not inspire me with confidence, I insisted on seeing his credentials. And then he disappeared, and I found myself caught up and carried off. I suppose none of my people were in the hall, or else they were too afraid to come to my rescue. And Stratford Place is very quiet, so my smothered cries attracted no attention. Besides, I fancy I must have been chloroformed."

"I expect we both were. Nibbles would be furious if he knew—luckily he doesn't. We had a tiff, and he went off to Monte, all on his little lone. But I wish I had any idea where we are."

"I have certainly no recollection of ever having been in such a place as this before in my life," said the Duchess.

Daphne returned in time to offer what explanations she could.

"I know it must seem a little strange at first," she said, coming forward, "but this is the Palace of the Queen of MÄrchenland."

"MÄrchenland?" repeated the Duchess. "And where may that be? Never heard of such a country!"

"Well," said Daphne, "it's a long way from everywhere, and it's the place where most of the stories one used to think were only Fairy Tales really happened."

"I never expected to find myself in Fairyland," the Duchess remarked. "Tell me—are you the Queen of this country? You look as if you might be."

"Oh no," replied Daphne, with a little laugh. "I'm only one of her ladies-in-waiting. She hasn't long been Queen. We were all carried here from England in a big car drawn by flying storks—the one that brought you, I expect. I don't know, of course," she added dubiously, "but you may have met Queen Selina when she lived at Gablehurst—her former name was Mrs. Wibberley-Stimpson."

"Wibberley-Stimpson?" repeated the Duchess thoughtfully. "No, I can't say I remember anyone of that name."

"Nor I," said Lady Muscombe languidly. "Don't know any one at Gablehurst."

"But if she is half as charming as you, my dear," added the Duchess graciously, "it will give me much pleasure to make her acquaintance, though I am curious to know why she seems to have taken so much trouble to cultivate mine."

At this moment Queen Selina herself arrived, very much out of breath. "Your Grace!" she began, "My lady Marchioness!"

"Ah, here is the housekeeper!" said the Duchess, before Daphne could enlighten her. "Can you tell us, my good woman, when and where her Majesty will receive us?"

"I—I am her Majesty!" said Queen Selina, wishing she had devoted more pains to her morning toilet.

"Oh, to be sure," said the Duchess. "You must forgive my blunder, Ma'am, but my sight is not what it was."

"It is of no consequence, my dear Duchess—pray don't mention it. Miss Heritage, I find I shall require that skirt after all. You will be good enough to see to it at once, and not come down till it is finished," said the Queen sharply, feeling it more imperative than ever to prevent any account of this meeting from being communicated to the Court.... "No, Baron, I shall not require you," she went on, as he appeared at the entrance. "You have done quite enough." And Daphne and the Baron withdrew accordingly.

"I'm so distressed, your Grace, by this unfortunate—er—contretemps," said Queen Selina, as soon as she had her guests to herself. "I really hardly know how to apologise. I'm afraid my old Court Chamberlain has taken a most unpardonable liberty."

"Well, Ma'am," said the Duchess, "there's no doubt he kidnapped both myself and this lady here. On false pretences, too! I don't know yet whether he was acting on your instructions?"

"Most decidedly not! Indeed I should never have ventured. The fact is, he must have confused you with two other ladies of title who are great friends of mine. I expect he heard me mention them, and—it was most stupid and careless of him, I know—but he must have concluded I wanted to see them, and brought you by mistake."

"I see," said the Duchess; "though I don't understand how he came to know our names and addresses, as he must have done to find us."

"Oh," said Queen Selina, with much presence of mind, "you're both of you public characters, you know. He's such an old blunderer, he probably couldn't find the right people, and thought you would do as well."

"I can only say," replied the Duchess, "that that impression of his has put me to a great deal of personal inconvenience."

"I was carried off without a chance of ringing them up at the Carlton, where I ought to have dined last night!" complained Lady Muscombe.

"If your Majesty will get a new Chamberlain—one who isn't an absolute idiot," said the Duchess severely, "your house-party would be in less danger of being recruited in this irregular manner."

"But I assure you I'm delighted to see your Grace, and you too, of course, Lady Muscombe! I hope, now you are here, you will stay as long as ever you can. Such a pleasure always to his Majesty and myself to welcome any of our own country-women! And now I will take you up to your rooms, and you will no doubt be glad of a little rest before you come down to lunch and meet the family."

"I cannot possibly appear at lunch in this dress," said the Duchess; "but I shall be glad if you will send me up some food, and then I must really start for home."

"So must I," declared Lady Muscombe; "there'll be a fuss if I'm not back soon—and I simply couldn't stay in any house without a single trunk, or a maid either! It isn't giving me a fair chance!"

"I'm afraid the storks won't be fit for such a long return journey just yet," said their hostess; "and it would be a pity to leave without seeing something of MÄrchenland, so I hope you will remain for at least a night, as a favour to me. I see no one of any real distinction now! And as for clothes, I can lend you all you require. You will excuse their being out of the fashion—we don't get the latest Paris models here."

"You're very kind," said the Duchess. "Then I will accept your hospitality for the present."

"So will I—er—your Majesty, thanks," said Lady Muscombe. "It will be something to tell Muscombe—when we're on speaking terms again."

"So very nice and friendly of you both!" said Queen Selina as she escorted them across the hall to the foot of the immense staircase. "I must apologise for asking you to come up all these steps, but there's no such thing as a lift here. The Astrologer Royal offered to try and procure us a flying carpet—but, of course, I wouldn't hear of that."

"Well," said the Duchess, as she toiled up, "this is certainly a wonderful Palace you live in—I have never seen one so splendid in my life!"

"Ah, my dear Duchess, it's much too large to be really comfortable, and all the arrangements, too, so unlike our English ways! I'm afraid I shall never get things done here according to my ideas.... This is your room, dear Duchess, and yours is next, Marchioness. I will send some of my waiting-women to you with everything necessary. You will find us assembled in the Throne Room before lunch.... Oh, and there's just one thing. My Court have got an impression—I'm sure I don't know why—that we're quite old friends. If you wouldn't mind—er—addressing me as 'Selina' now and then.... Not at all, I assure you, I should consider it a compliment—from you.... Then I shall hope to see you later on in the Throne Room.... It's in the left wing, down the great corridor; you can't miss it because of the trumpeters at the doors."

After an interval the two visitors made their appearance in the Throne Room, arrayed in magnificent but rather fantastic robes of velvet and brocade with long hanging sleeves lined with ermine—a costume which suited Lady Muscombe better than the Duchess.

Queen Selina advanced to welcome them effusively. "So you've found your way here!" she said. "How very well you both look in those dresses! Most becoming, I assure you. By the bye, my dear Duchess, did you ever recover that tiara you lost in the train?"

"I never did lose it," replied the Duchess, "I believe some story got into the papers, but it was a down-right lie."

"So glad! I must tell you that I don't as a rule wear my crown at lunch, but I thought, to-day being a gala occasion—"

"Quite right!" said the Duchess. "And quite regal!"

"I could lend both of you tiaras, if it would make you feel more at your ease."

"I feel perfectly at ease as I am, thank you," replied the Duchess shortly.

"Nibbles gave me one of the family fenders," said the Marchioness, "but I never wear it—it gives me such a headache."

"Ah, dear Lady Muscombe, I can sympathise with you—but I have to put up with my headaches. I want you to come and shake hands with my husband—His Majesty, you know."

"Charmed," said the Duchess. "Is that His Majesty with the—er—auburn whiskers and moustache? I thought it must be.... How d'you do, sir?"

"Thank you, your Grace, I'm very tolerably well," said King Sidney, who was not entirely at his ease in welcoming such distinguished guests—especially as he was far from clear as to how and why they came to be there. "Glad you found time to—er—look us up. Hardly had time to settle down here ourselves yet—so you must take us as you find us."

"I never expected to find you all so magnificent, I can assure you," replied the Duchess.

"Oh, well," he said, "my wife likes living in style. And of course when you are Royalties, so to speak, you've got to do the thing well."

"That is my eldest daughter, Edna, Duchess, the Princess Royal ... yes, over there, with the eye-glasses. Edna, my love, come and tell her Grace how delighted you are to see her, and Lady Muscombe too."

"How do you do, my dear? You're looking well," said the complaisant old lady, preparing to embrace her hostess's daughter.... "Oh, if you prefer me to kiss your hand, ma'am——"

"You shouldn't be so formal, Edna!" said her mother. "Not with such an old friend as the Duchess. This, Duchess, is my son, the Crown Prince Clarence, and here is my youngest daughter, Princess Ruby."

"I must tell you about Edna, my dear Duchess," said Queen Selina, drawing her apart after these presentations had been effected. "She has only just become engaged—to a neighbour of ours, young Count von Rubenfresser. From a merely worldly point of view she might have done much better. In fact, Prince Mirliflor of Clairdelune came here to propose to her, but she rejected him. Wouldn't hear of anyone but the Count! So as His Majesty and I do not approve of forcing our children's hearts, we have let her have her own way."

"It seems quite a romance," observed the Duchess.

"Quite. And of course the Count comes of a very old family. I forget what the original title was, but they've had Castle Drachenstolz for centuries. Such a picturesque old place! And—actually, Duchess!—Count Ruprecht has a pet dragon there—it's the only one left in MÄrchenland now, and as it's rather a curiosity in its way, and quite inoffensive, we see no objection to his keeping it. You will probably meet the Count to-day, he generally drives over to luncheon now—so devoted to dear Edna! And such a height, too!"

"I shall be interested to meet him," said the Duchess. "He must be rather a remarkable person."

Meanwhile Clarence was engaged in making himself agreeable to Lady Muscombe. "Funny thing, Marchioness," he remarked, "but I seem to know your face quite well."

"Perhaps you've seem me on picture-postcards," she said, "or else at the Vivacity. Before I married I was Verity Stilton, you know."

"Oh," he stammered in confusion, "I—I wasn't aware—or else—of course. Sorry!"

"Why on earth should you be? You don't suppose I'm ashamed of having been on the stage? I should soon have got to the front if I had stayed. I was offered one of the best parts in 'The Girl from Greenland,' and I threw it up to marry Muscombe. His people know perfectly well that I sacrificed my career for his sake." (It might be added that if they did not, it was no fault of Lady Muscombe's.)

"I remember you," he said. "I used to go to the Vivacity before the Mater came to the throne."

"Ah, you haven't been a Royalty long, have you? Weren't you a Wobbly-something or other before that?"

"Wibberley-Stimpson was the family name," he corrected.

"I knew it was something like that. And when you were—one of those, what did you do with yourself?"

"I was in Finance," he replied largely. "In the City, don't you know, what?"

"Really?" she drawled. "That accounts for my not remembering you. Somehow, at the Vivacity, we didn't know any City men. All this must be rather a change for you, isn't it?"

"It was a bit, at first, but we soon got into it. Except the Guv'nor, who's never taken very kindly to it—hasn't had the training, what?"

"And you have? I see. And what does a Fairy Crown Prince have to do?"

"Well," he said, "I do a lot of riding and hunting. Mostly boar about here. The Guv'nor don't ride, nor does Edna. Can't induce them to get on a horse. So I have to represent the family."

"I expect you're no end of a nut here," she said.

"Oh, really, Marchioness, you're pulling my leg!"

"Am I? I've never pulled a Fairy Prince's leg before, so it's quite a new experience for me. But one expects new experiences in Fairyland—if this really is Fairyland, which I can't quite believe!"

"Oh, it's Fairyland right enough, though, mind you, it isn't the place it was. Nothing like the magic that there used to be. Most of it died out. Still, we've got a sort of old Fairy Godmother, as part of the Palace fixtures—goes about in a car drawn by doves—give you my word she does! She has another old turn-out, with storks. We came here in that—and I expect you did."

"Yes, and I see the old gentleman over there who carried me off by main force. He doesn't look as if he was such a good hand at abductions!"

"He looks pretty much the blithering old idiot he is," said Clarence. "If I'd only known he was going to London I'd have told him to get me a few thousand cigarettes—they've none here of course. But I expect he'd only have brought 'Woodbines,' or the wrong sort anyhow!"

"Does he always bring the wrong sort?" inquired Lady Muscombe.

"Well," said Clarence, crudely enough, "he didn't make much mistake about you, Marchioness!"

"That's exactly what I expected from you!" she said. "By the way, what has become of the lovely person who was with the Duchess and me when we first woke up? I think your mother called her Hermitage. I don't see her anywhere here."

"Heritage—Lady Daphne, as we call her now. She used to be my kiddie-sister's governess."

"Oh? Well, she's quite the sweetest thing I've seen—don't you think she is, yourself?"

"Not since you came!" was his gallant reply.

"It's lucky Muscombe can't hear you paying me compliments of that sort," she said. "If he did he'd want your blood. And why isn't that Lady Daphne here? I'm dying to see her again. Duchess," she added, as the elder lady, having escaped from her hostess, came towards them, "I've been asking the Prince why that charming little Heritage creature isn't here. You would like to see her, wouldn't you?"

"Certainly," said the Duchess. "Where is she?"

"We'll ask the Court Godmother," said Clarence (it had already struck him that it might give Daphne a higher opinion of him if she could see the terms he was on with a real English Marchioness). "She'll know." But the Fairy could only say that she supposed Lady Daphne was remaining in her own rooms for some reason.

"I wish you'd get her to come down, Court Godmother," said Clarence. "These ladies would like to see her."

"I will go and fetch her myself," said the Fairy, who was pleased, in spite of herself, that her unacknowledged god-daughter should be in such request.

She found Daphne engaged in sewing the great pierced jewels in an intricate pattern on the skirt of the royal robe.

"Why, how's this?" exclaimed she. "At work! When they will be sitting down to table directly! The Prince and our two noble guests have asked me to come and see what is keeping you."

"This," said Daphne, touching the skirt on her knee. "Her Majesty has sent me up to finish it, and forbidden me to come down till it's done."

"Then," said the Fairy, "she ought to be ashamed of herself!"

"Oh, I don't mind a bit, Court Godmother. They'll bring me something to eat presently, and I'd much rather be here than have to meet that odious Count Ruprecht! Court Godmother," she added, with a little anxious line on her forehead, "I'd better tell you, though I dare say you'll think it silly—but I'm rather worried by a conversation I overheard just now between two pigeons on the roof."

"You shouldn't pay any attention to anything pigeons say—it's generally love-talk; and very foolish at that."

"They weren't making love. They were talking about the Count. The first pigeon said, 'The Count has come here again. I have just seen his big coach in the courtyard,' and the second pigeon said, 'There is nothing in that.'"

"Well, one of them had some sense, anyway!" remarked the Fairy.

"Ah, but wait. 'Indeed there is something,' said the other bird. 'There is a big sack in the coach, and I know what is inside the sack, too.' 'And what may that be?' the second one asked. 'All I can tell you,' said the first, 'is that, if the Princess only knew as much about it as I do, there wouldn't be any marriage!' They flew away after that, but I've been wondering ever since whether he mayn't have murdered somebody."

"If he had," said the Fairy, "he wouldn't be very likely to bring the body out to lunch with him. You shouldn't be so uncharitable, my child. And, as for birds, I should have thought you knew what busy-bodies they are, and what scandals they make out of nothing at all."

"Then you think it's all right?" said Daphne, relieved. "But all the same, I can't trust the Count."

"Nobody asks you to. I don't trust him myself, if it comes to that. But, whatever he may or may not be is no affair of yours or mine. Princess Edna will find out in time what a mistake she has made."

"If only she doesn't find it out too late!" said Daphne.

"She'll have herself to thank, whatever happens. I shan't interfere again. I'm tired of trying to help anyone. I never get anything but ingratitude for it."