a tiara of diamonds, her cameos exchanged for
pearls, looked royal. Proving conclusively that clutter, as to dress, is
entirely a matter of value.

Miss Braithwaite, who had begun recently to think a palace the dreariest
place in the world, and the most commonplace, found the preparations
rather exciting. Being British she dearly loved the aristocracy, and
shrugged her shoulders at any family which took up less than a page
in the peerage. She resented deeply the intrusion of the commoner
into British politics, and considered Lloyd George an upstart and an
interloper.

That evening she took the Crown Prince to see the preparations for the
festivities. The flowers appealed to him, and he asked for and secured
a rose, which he held carefully. But the magnificence of the table
only faintly impressed him, and when he heard that Nikky would not be
present, he lost interest entirely. "Will they wheel my grandfather in a
chair?" he inquired.

"He is too ill," Miss Braithwaite said.

"He'll be rather lonely, when they're all at the party. You don't
suppose I could go and sit with him, do you?"

"It will be long after your bedtime."

Bedtime being the one rule which was never under any circumstances
broken, he did not persist. To have insisted might have meant five off
in Miss Braithwaite's book, and his record was very good that week.
Together the elderly Englishwoman and the boy went back to the
schoolroom.

The Countess Loschek, who had dressed with a heavy heart, was easily
the most beautiful of the women that night. Her color was high with
excitement and anger, her eyes flashed, her splendid shoulders gleamed
over the blue and orchid shades of her gown. A little court paid tribute
to her beauty, and bowed the deeper and flattered the more as she openly
scorned and flouted them. She caught once a flicker of admiration in
Karl's face, and although her head went high, her heart beat stormily
under it.

Hedwig was like a flower that required the sun. Only her sun was
happiness. She was in soft white chiffons, her hair and frock alike
girlish and unpretentious. Her mother, coming into her dressing room,
had eyed her with disfavor.

"You look like a school-girl," she said, and had sent for rouge, and
with her own royal hands applied it. Hedwig stood silent, and allowed
her to have her way without protest. Had submitted, too, to a diamond
pin in her hair, and a string of her mother's pearls.

"There," said Annunciata