All in a Garden Green by Willis Paul J.;

Author:Willis, Paul J.; [Willis, Paul J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781639820627
Publisher: Slant Books
Published: 2021-10-24T17:13:20+00:00

Chapter 11

Roses Are Red

“

Margaret!” cried the music master. “Where hast thou been? The Queen’s own person is nearly upon us, and you must do your part with the rest.”

“My part?” she said uncertainly.

He looked at her dress and frowned.

“Thy part,” he said—”to show thyself as a fairy princess with thy sister, and after saying thy pretty piece which thou hast conned, to present unto her majesty the rich jewel which thy father holds for thee in waiting. But come, now, into the wood to hide until the Queen appear.”

She followed him behind the trees, wishing she had Pedro with her to interpret. What did Master Edward mean about her saying a pretty piece which she had conned? Conned? Was she supposed to have memorized something—a poem or a speech? How would she be able to say anything unless she had Pedro to help her? She looked back and saw him standing uncertainly at the edge of the road.

“Psst!” she called, waving him toward her.

He smiled and followed. Erica felt a little relieved.

But only a little. Master Edward stopped behind a large oak, and there waited a company of people she was sure she was supposed to know. Beside a number of servants and musicians holding flutes and drums was a little girl, strawberry blonde, dressed in white. She stood nervously on one foot and then the other, picking the bark off of the tree. There was a sharp-faced woman in rich blue velvet, intently plucking at her sleeve. And there was a very stout and handsome man, standing with his arms folded and legs spread apart. Around his neck was a gold chain.

“Why Meg, Meg,” the man said in a hearty voice. “I told them you would not fail to come. Thou wouldst not disappoint thy father.” He unfolded his arms and gave her a tremendous hug.

“What hast thou done to thy dress?” said the sharp-faced woman she took to be Meg’s mother. “Thou hast besmirched it woefully!”

Erica felt the color rise in her face. “The carriage,” she stammered. “It tipped over. It tippeth over—however you say it.” This last she added under her breath.

“The driver shall be whipped!” said the man.

“Oh no,” said Erica. “It wasn’t his fault. You see, the wagons—”

“There’s no time, Meg,” the small girl interrupted. She was almost squeaking, her voice was so high. “We needs must don the rest of our attire and say over our parts. The Queen approacheth.”

“What is’t o’clock?” her father asked peremptorily.

“I think it be near four of the clock,” said Master Edward. “Though one cannot tell. There is no clock in the forest.”

“Who knows not that?” said Mistress Kytson, glaring at him. “Don’t play such a fool.”

“Make yourselves ready all,” said her husband. “Meg, take this jewel and keep it well between thy hands. You know the proper moment to present it to her majesty.” With that he pressed a gleaming emerald into her palm. It was cut and beveled to a perfect square. “Ah, my Meg.

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