Someone touched his elbow and, turning, he saw Sir Percevall, with the
light of triumph on his fat face.

"Fortune's smiles have turned to mere laughter, my lad," he said,
chuckling. "This American princess hath the Queen's good-will. How the
fiend's name came you acquainted?"

CHAPTER XIV

THE FATE OF SIR PERCEVALL'S SUIT

In the inner chamber, Elizabeth was seated at a small table, at the
opposite end of which sat Rebecca. Burleigh, Nottingham, and two or
three other great lords stood near at hand, while one dish after another
was brought in from the outer room by maids of honor.

Standing to the right of the Queen's chair was a dark man of foreign
aspect, wearing the robes of a Doctor of Laws. In his hand was Rebecca's
copy of the New York _World_, which he was perusing with an expression
of the utmost perplexity.

"Well, Master Guido," said the Queen, "what make you of it?"

"Maesta eccellentissima--" the scholar began.

"Nay--nay. Speak good plain English, man," said the Queen. "The Lady
Rebecca hath no Italian."

Messer Guido bowed and began again, speaking with a scarcely perceptible
accent.

"Most Excellent Majesty, I have but begun perusal of this document. It
promiseth matter for ten good years' research in the comparison of
parts, interpretation of phrases, identifying customs, manners, dress,
and the like."

"Nay, then," said the Queen, "with the help of the Lady Rebecca, 'twill
be no weighty task, methinks. My lady, why partake you not of the
pasty?" she said, turning to Rebecca. "Hath it not a very proper savor?"

"My, yes," Rebecca replied; "it's mighty good pie! Somehow, though, pie
don't lay very good with me these days. Ye don't happen to have any tea,
do ye?"

"Tea!"

"If I may venture--" said Guido, eagerly.

"Speak, Messer Guido."

"Why, it would appear, your Majesty, that tea is a sort of stuff for
dresses--silk, belike."

"Stuff for dresses!" said Rebecca. "Stuff and nonsense! Why, tea's a
drink!"

"A beverage! Then how explain you this?" the Italian cried,
triumphantly. Lifting the newspaper, he read from it the following
passage: "The illustration shows a charming tea-gown, a creation of Mme.
Decollete."

"You see, Maesta--your Majesty--it is clear. A 'tea-gown' is shown in
the drawing--a gown made of tea."

Rebecca had opened her mouth to overwhelm the poor savant with the truth
when a page entered and stood before the Queen.

"Well, sirrah," said Eliza