IX
Mother Marie
It was shadowy on the lawn, for it was after sunset. No one seemed to be looking, so hand in hand the two children ran across the drawbridge to the wicket in the garden wall which Nichette pushed open. Then for the first time the Queen found herself in her own garden, unswept and untrimmed to receive her.
“How beautiful it is here!” she cried, looking down at the rose-leaf carpet such as she had never seen. “I never saw it like this before, wild and unfussy. After this I shall come here often to play with you, Nichette.”
“And may I see the fountain play?” asked Nichette wistfully.
“Why, did you never see it?” asked the Queen in surprise. Then Nichette told her all about it; how the Queen had always shut her out on those holidays, when her playthings were swept up and her mud pies broken.
“And you thought I did it, and so you did not love me. Oh, Nichette!” said the Queen reproachfully. “It was the horrid gardener. But I never told him to do that. I did not know there was a little girl who played here. You shall always come after this, and I shall play here with you. And we will never have it fixed up and spoiled.”
Nichette led the Queen to the rosebush where the four dolls were waiting in the same patient row. “This is my cubby-house,” she said, “and
here you must hide till I have had my supper. Then when it is bedtime I will come and show you the way.”
“I am hungry,” said the Queen.
“I will bring you half of my supper and you shall eat it here,” said Nichette.
“That will be very nice,” laughed Clotilde eagerly. “Hurry, hurry, Nichette!”
Then Nichette went back to the cottage. And there she found a great hubbub. For Pierre was away hunting for his keys which were nowhere to be found, and his good wife was worrying lest he should lose his place if the Lord Chamberlain came to know. To be sure, there was even more exciting news which would keep the Lord Chamberlain from troubling at present about Pierre and his keys. For Clotilde the Queen was missing from the palace! But, truth to tell, poor Pierre was frightened almost out of his wits for fear that the same person who had found the keys had entered the palace and kidnapped the Queen. But this dreadful fear he had not told his wife.
Good Mother Marie gave Nichette her supper, and even helped her to an extra plateful of scones and another slice of black bread. She was so anxious about the Father’s lost keys that she did not notice how fast the food disappeared. Nichette had a capital chance to hide the extra scones and the bread in her apron.
“I am going back to the garden to get my dolls, Mamma,” said Nichette after supper.
“Well, well, Nichette. But after that come straight home, child, for it is almost bedtime,” answered Mother Marie carelessly, for she was thinking of other things. “Oh, suppose Pierre never finds his keys! What shall we do, what shall we do?” she was saying to herself.
Now Nichette felt guilty about those same keys which at that minute were bulging out the pocket of her apron. When she found what a trouble it had made she almost wished she had not run away with them in the first place, and she longed to tell her mother all about it and ease her of her worry. But that would rob the poor little Queen of her promised kiss. Nichette could not do that. No, she could not tell just yet. She ran all the way back to the garden.