about her neck. Her dress was hidden beneath its
wealth of flowers; her charming face rose out of a perfect foam of
flowers.

"Oh, I do look beautiful!" she said aloud, and at the naive remark the
whole party shouted with merriment. Nancy cried, "Long life to the
queen!" and Joe the Fiddler burst into his merriest strains; it was with
the greatest difficulty that the desire for dancing could be suppressed,
for the little ceremony was not yet quite over. It was Nancy's turn to
come forward.

"Queen of the night," she said, "we hope that you will like what we, your
subjects, have done for you, and we hope that you will never forget your
happy birthday. There is just one thing I have to say. When the flowers
fade--and they are fading already--you, dear queen, will have no longer a
kingdom, so we have brought you something; we have subscribed among us
for something that will not fade--something that you can always wear in
memory of us. Look! isn't it beautiful?"

As Nancy spoke, she took a morocco case from the table, touched a spring,
and revealed to Pauline's dazzled eyes, a necklace of thin pure gold, to
which a little locket, with a diamond in the centre, was attached.

"This won't fade," said Nancy. "You can keep it all your life long. You
can also remember that there are people in the world, perhaps born a
little lower than yourself, who love you and care for you."

"Oh, you are good!" cried Pauline. "I will never forsake you, Nancy, or
think myself better than you are."

"Didn't I say she was a brick?" said Nancy. "Stoop your head, queen; I
will clasp the necklace around your neck."

Pauline did stoop her head, and the necklace was put in its place. The
little diamond in the centre glittered as though it had a heart of fire.
The flowers smelled sweet, but also heavy. Pauline was tired once again;
but the music was resumed. Fiddler Joe played more enchanting music than
before, and Pauline, suddenly rising from her throne, determined to dance
during the remaining hours of that exciting night.

But all happy things, and all naughty things come to an end, for such is
the fashion of earth; and by-and-by the farmer said that if they wished
to be home before morning they must get into the wagonette and the
dogcart, and their guests must take themselves away. Now it was the
farmer's turn to come up to Pauline.

"You have given us all pleasure to-night, Miss Pauline," he said; "and it
warms our hearts to feel that,