VII
Clotilde, the Queen
Nichette was talking so fast that she did not hear a soft step cross the toy-room beyond and pause in the doorway behind her.
were the long golden curls, the blue eyes, the pale pink cheeks, the red lips,—even the dimple in the round chin. Nichette stared first at the little girl, then at the doll, then back again. It was Mignon come alive!
“Oh—oh! You must be the Queen!” gasped Nichette at last, “you are so like the lonesomest doll.”
“The ‘lonesomest doll’? Why do you call her that? And how do you come here?” asked the 
little girl in a calm, low voice without seeming angry or surprised. “I followed you through the door which you left ajar. What are you doing in my treasure room?”
Nichette sat staring at the stranger dazedly. She was so beautiful, her voice was so soft, how could this be the proud, haughty, disagreeable little Queen whom Nichette did not love? Yet there was Mignon, beautiful also; and the Queen did not love her, but had neglected her and made her the lonesomest doll. Nichette’s eyes flashed, and she rose to her feet unafraid, clasping Mignon tight.
“I came to see the poor lonesomest doll whom you do not love. I came to tell her that I love her though I am not her truly mamma, and to hug and kiss her as dollies like to be hugged and kissed,” she said.
The Queen’s cheeks turned a shade pinker. “She is my doll,” she said coldly. “How dared you touch her? How did you get in?”
“My father is Pierre the Porter,” answered Nichette bravely. “I found his bunch of keys to-day and I came to see Mignon. I have not hurt her, and she is very happy.” The Queen looked at the doll closely hugged in Nichette’s arms, and a strange look came into her face.
“Do you really think she cares?” she asked.
“Of course she cares,” said Nichette. “Dolls love to be played with. They are lonesome if you leave them always in a box. How would you like to be left day after day alone, with no one to love and kiss you?”
The Queen’s face turned still pinker.
“I have no one to love me,” she said. Nichette stared. A Queen, and no one to love her! This was very strange. ‘‘Why don’t you play with your dollie, then?” she demanded. “I have no brothers nor sisters, but I have my dolls, and I play with them in the garden all day long.”
The Queen looked puzzled.
“Play?” she said. “How do you play with a doll? I don’t know how to play.”
“Don’t know how to play!” Nichette exclaimed. “Why, you play just as you do with other playthings. You just play.”
“But I never played in my life.” The Queen stood looking at Nichette in helpless puzzlement, and Nichette stared frankly back.
“Never played! Then what do you do with all those things?” she pointed at the toys in the room beyond.
“I never play with them. I don’t know how. There is nobody to play with,” explained the Queen bitterly. “Oh, I never knew what it was until I watched you. I never before saw a little girl play with a doll. I never before talked with a little girl. Why did they not tell me about you?”
Now the poor little Queen’s father and mother had died when she was a wee baby. Only grown-up uncles and aunts had watched her and tried to make her wise and dignified as they thought a Queen should be. There were no little cousin princes or princesses, no neighboring highborn ladykins to be her playmates; and they had never dreamed of asking any real live children from round about to play with their noble Queen. She was just the age of Nichette, but she had never once been outdoors to play; never once run or hopped or skipped in the good warm sun; never once sat on the floor with a box of toys, nor put a doll to sleep. They thought a Queen ought not to care for any of these things.
The Queen and Nichette looked hard at each other. “I am glad you came,” said the Queen at last. She smiled and held out her hand. “Come and show me how to play,” she added, and they went out into the toy-room together.