her mother had dramatic
talent, and she had inherited it. Have you dramatic talent, Mother?"

"I don't know, King," said Mrs. Maynard, laughing. "Your father and I
have joined their dramatic club, but it remains to be seen whether we
can make a success of it."

"Oh, Mother!" cried Marjorie. "Are you really going to act in a play?
Oh, can we see you?"

"I don't know yet, Midget. Probably it will be an entertainment only for
grown-ups. We've just begun rehearsals."

"Have we dramatic talent, Mother?"

"Not to any astonishing degree. But, yes, I suppose your fondness for
playing at court life and such things shows a dramatic taste."

"Oh, it's great fun, Mother! I just love to sit on that throne with my
long trail wopsed on the floor beside me, and my sceptre sticking up,
and my courtiers all around me,--oh, Mother, I think I'd like to be a
real queen!"

"Well, you see, Midget, you were born in a country that doesn't employ
queens."

"And I'm glad of it!" cried Marjorie, patriotically. "Hooray! for the
land of the free and the home of the brave! I guess I don't care to be a
real queen, I guess I'll be a president's wife instead. Say, Mother,
won't you and Father write us some poems for _The Jolly Sandboy_?"

"What is that, Midget?"

"Oh, it's our court journal,--and you and Father do write such lovely
poetry. Will you, Mother?"

"Yes, I 'spect so."

"Oh, goody! When you say 'I 'spect so,' you always _do_. Hey, King, Rosy
Posy ought to have a sandy kind of a name, even if she doesn't come to
our court meetings."

"'Course she ought. And she can come sometimes, if she doesn't upset
things."

"She can't upset things worse'n Hester did."

"No; but I don't believe Hester will act up like that again."

"She may, Marjorie," said Mrs. Maynard. "I've heard her mother say she
can't seem to curb Hester's habit of flying into a temper. So just here,
my two loved ones, let me ask you to be kind to the little girl, and if
she gets angry, don't flare back at her, but try 'a soft answer.'"

"But, Mother," said King, "that isn't so awful easy! And, anyway, I
don't think she ought to do horrid things,--like tumbling down our
palace,--and then we just forgive her, and take her into the club!"

"Why not, King?"

King looked a little nonplussed.

"Why," he said, "why,--because it doesn't seem fair."

"And does it seem fairer for you to lose your temper too, and try what
children call 'getting even with her'?"

"W