t of that? Time is made for slaves! The Red Rover
seeks it not! Why should the Queen?"

"I think we must be going," hesitated Polly, yet by no means
displeased with the recognition of her rank.

"Not until we have paid homage to your Majesty," returned the
leader. "What ho! there! Let Brother Step-and-Fetch-It pass the
Queen around that we may do her honour." Observing that Polly shrank
slightly back, he added: "Fear nothing, the man who hurts a hair of
Her Majesty's head, dies by this hand. Ah! ha!"

[Illustration]

The others all said, ha! ha! and danced alternately on one leg
and then on the other, but always with the same dark resemblance
to Christy Minstrels. Brother Step-and-Fetch-It, whose very long
beard had a confusing suggestion of being a part of the leader's
buffalo robe, lifted her gently in his arms and carried her to
the Red Rovers in turn. Each one bestowed a kiss upon her cheek
or forehead, and would have taken her in his arms, or on his
knees, or otherwise lingered over his salute, but they were sternly
restrained by their leader. When the solemn rite was concluded,
Step-and-Fetch-It paid his own courtesy with an extra squeeze of
the curly head, and deposited her again in the truck--a little
frightened, a little astonished, but with a considerable accession
to her dignity. Hickory and Patsey looked on with stupefied
amazement. Wan Lee alone remained stolid and unimpressed, regarding
the scene with calm and triangular eyes.

"Will Your Majesty see the Red Rover's dance?"

"No, if you please," said Polly, with gentle seriousness.

"Will Your Majesty fire this barrel of Gunpowder, or tap this
breaker of Grog?"

"No, I thank you."

"Is there no command Your Majesty would lay upon us?"

"No, please," said Polly, in a failing voice.

"Is there anything Your Majesty has lost? Think again! Will Your
Majesty deign to cast your royal eyes on this?"

He drew from under his buffalo robe what seemed like a long tress of
blond hair, and held it aloft. Polly instantly recognized the
missing scalp of her hapless doll.

"If you please, Sir, it's Lady Mary's. She's lost it."

"And lost it--Your Majesty--only to find something more precious!
Would Your Majesty hear the story?"

A little alarmed, a little curious, a little self-anxious, and a
little induced by the nudges and pinches of her companions, the
Queen blushingly signified her royal assent.

"Enough. Bring refreshments. Will Your Majesty pre