03 The Princess of the Chalet School (24 page)

‘Dormouse!’ said Margia scornfully.

‘Dormouse nothing!’ retorted a muffled voice. ‘I’m a Christian person who sees no use in dashing round before you have to!’

‘I don’t think you’d better talk,’ said the prefect warningly. ‘You may disturb other people, you know.’

‘It sounds like it!’ chuckled Margia, as a bump overhead announced the fact that some one in the dormitory above them was turning out. ‘Wonder who that was? They’ll bring the ceiling down on top of us if they barge round like that!’

‘Grizel, I should think,’ said Joey. ‘It’s about where her bed is.’

At that moment a voice from the balcony above was heard proclaiming to the world at large that it was a glorious morning, and that ‘those lazy Yellows weren’t up yet!’

‘Grizel it is!’ laughed Bette. Then she tumbled out, and went on to the balcony and looked up. ‘Grizel!

Grizel!’

Grizel hung over her rail in a perilous manner. ‘Hello! So you
are
awake? I thought you were all sound asleep and dreaming of cakes and pie – ‘

She stopped suddenly, as a pillow flew past her and into the garden. ‘
Now
you’ve torn it!’ she continued, as she turned round to her dormitory. ‘That landed in the middle of the marguerites! I should think they’ll be pancakes by the time we collect that pillow. What an ass you are, Gertrud!’

Gertrud Steinbrücke, one of the oldest members of the school, laughed. ‘Not they! They’ll come up all right. But you might slip something on and go down and fetch it, Grizel!’

‘I daresay! It was your fault it got there; if you want it, go and get it yourself?’

A curly head appeared through another window farther along, and the Head called ‘Girls – girls! What a noise you are making! You’ll rouse the whole valley! If you feel so energetic you had better get up at once!’

‘Good morning, Madame,’ cried Bette. ‘I hope we haven’t wakened you!’

The Head laughed. ‘Oh, no! I was reading!’

‘May we really get up?’ queried Grizel eagerly. ‘Yes, if you like. Ask Marie for some milk and rolls when you get down, and don’t go out of the garden and the field.’

Then she withdrew, and Grizel rushed round the other dormitories to tell the occupants that they could get up if they liked, bringing much recrimination on herself for disturbing people who had
not
wakened early.

In the Yellow dormitory Joey and Margia hurled themselves through to Evadne and hauled her out of bed, protesting and shrieking.

‘You’ve got to get up! You’ve got to get up!’ chanted Joey. ‘Grab her bed-clothes, Margia! Come on, Dormouse! You’re up now – and a jolly good thing too! You’ll be getting as fat as a pig if you spend so much time in bed!’

Shrieks of laughter greeted this, for Evadne was as thin as she could be, with arms and legs like sticks. No matter what they gave her, she never seemed to get any fatter. All the past winter she had been dosed with cod-liver oil, much to her disgust, and it had made no difference that anyone could see. She was healthy enough; but, as Joey had somewhat – vulgarly expressed it, she ‘didn’t pay for feeding.’ There was a noise such as would have brought Nemesis on them in less than no time had it been an ordinary day. Luckily for them a good deal of license was allowed on such a morning, and getting-up was anything but proper and demure affair it generally was. Jo, flying through the dormitory on her way to the bathroom, was soaked by a sponge hurled by Evadne, who, since she
was
up, was determined to pay out her tormentors. Marie got tangled in her sheets when she carried them out to the balcony to air, and fell headlong into Bette’s arms, which, as the prefect was not expecting her, caused a general upset, and Miss Bettany appeared at the door to inquire if they were murdering each other.

When at length they were downstairs, the majority of them raced across to Le Petit Chalet, waving the rolls Marie Pfeifen had given them, and, standing in a group, serenaded its inhabitants with a rendering of

‘Clementine’ sung in various keys.

‘It must have sounded exactly like Wagner at a distance!’ said Margia a little later on.

It was nearly seven when all this took place, so Mademoiselle contented herself by calling them all
méchantes
before she began to laugh. The babies, of course, were delighted, and got dressed at a rate which sent them downstairs long before the usual time.

The rest of the morning until
Mittegassen
, at twelve o’clock, was a whirl of noise and laughter. Marie Pfeifen got through her work for the day as quickly as she could, and several of the children helped her. The seniors were busy putting little tables in various nooks and corners of the garden ready for tea, and the juniors acted as messengers and did odd jobs for everyone.

At two o’clock they all assembled in the field, dressed in white frocks, with shoes and stockings to match, ready to receive their guests. Miss Bettany looked at them proudly. They looked such a bonny, healthy set of girls. She had always insisted that they should be like a big family, and she felt that her efforts had been crowned with success when she saw them as they stood there. Then the parents began to arrive, and for an hour or more they were kept busy welcoming them, and showing them the garden, the school, and everything else that was of interest, besides a good deal that was not.

At three the girls slipped off to get ready for the masque, and the staff, with the exception of Miss Durrant and Mr. Denny, who had trained them in the songs, began to usher the visitors into the seats which had been placed down the path and on the grass behind the path. The play itself was to take place in the other part of the garden, with the background of the trellis-work covered with climbing roses, clematis, passion flower, and Virginian creeper. When the last guest had been seated a little bell rang, and at once there rose the sound of the lovely old English round, ‘Sumer is icumen in,’ sung by the whole school.

After it was over there was a moment’s pause, and then a little figure in blue, with a taller one in white and gold of the marguerite, danced in and spoke of the return of summer to the earth. They were quickly followed by Heartsease, Narcissus, Lily, Dahlia, Grass, and Sunflower, while the Trees marched along, very tall and proud. A merry dance followed, ‘Up Tails All.’ Then the Flowers scattered, and Butterflies, Bees, and Moths fluttered in, singing ‘
Lieber Tag
,’ a Tyrolean song. The Flowers joined in, and the harmony of the young voices was so sweet that people passing outside paused to listen.

Finally there was the sound of a horn, and then the South Wind, the Herald of Summer, strode in. Clad in a short blue tunic, with her black hair banded with a wreath of buds, and her hunter’s horn wreathed in roses.

Joey looked almost pretty for once in her life. She marched forward, blowing lustily, and then, standing in the midst of the pretty groups of Flowers and Insects, sang ‘Enter Summer,’ a dainty little composition of Mr. Denny’s, written expressly for the play. No time was allowed for applause, or she would have had an encore, for her voice was sweet and true as a bird’s. Just as she finished there came a chiming of bells –cow-bells, borrowed for the occasion and rung by Marie, Eigen, Miss Durrant, and Mr. Denny – and Queen Summer entered with her court.

Marie von Eschenau had never looked lovelier than at that moment when she passed slowly over the summer grass in her white gown with its edgings of summer flowers, her hands full of roses, and a wreath of marguerites, gentians, and alpen-roses on her golden hair. She was followed by her courtiers, the other Winds, the Birds, and the remainder of the Flowers. Strewing flowers in front of her were the two youngest children in the school. Inga Eriksen and Robin Humphries, dressed as alpen-roses, and looking delightfully important.

Queen Summer paused in the middle of her loyal subjects, and stood there, her hands outspread while she spoke a speech of welcome to all present.

It had taken six weeks and five people to get that speech into Marie, who was
not
clever, and who had had more than one weep over it, but everyone had felt that it had been well worth all the trouble as they looked at her, and heard the words coming clear and musical from her. She was throned after that, and then the subjects of Summer came forward in turn, and, kneeling, offered her their gifts. The Flowers laid sheaves of their name-blossoms at her feet; the Trees presented branches of their leaves; the Butterflies, Moths, Birds, and Bees danced for her, and the whole court sang another song. Then Summer thanked them, and bade all join in a final merry round before Poppy should scatter her slumber-laden petals, and they danced

‘Sellenger’s Round.’ The dance over, the courtiers fell into pretty groups, and, to the sound of ‘Golden Slumbers,’ sung by the South Wind, Poppy – Juliet – danced slowly in and out among the Flowers, who swayed backwards and forwards, slowly sinking, till they were all lying down in graceful attitudes. The Insects and Birds followed their example, and the masque ended with the grass covered with little masses of gay colours and living statuary, which Mr. Denny declared were far more beautiful than any Greek ones he had ever seen.

A charming touch finished it, and this was an inspiration of the girls. While the audience was applauding lustily. Queen Summer rose from her throne, gathered up a great armful of her tributes, and went slowly over the grass to where the Head was sitting at the side between Frau Marani and Frau Mensch. The clapping died away as the people watched the child, wondering what she was going to do. Marie reached the chair. Then she knelt gracefully on one knee, and offered her lovely burden, ‘For Madame – with all our love,’ she said shyly.

Madge took the flowers slowly, her eyes pricking at the back. She had know that the girls loved her – it would have been impossible for her not to know it – but for their affection to be shown as openly as this was totally unexpected.

The parents were almost as pleased as she was, and promptly applauded again, while she thanked her girls shyly. After that there was an interval for tea, during which the prefects acted as waitresses, while the younger girls went round making conversation.

At one of the tables sat a tall old man, with a magnificent head of white hair and a long beard to match.

Miss Bettany paused beside him for a few minutes, and something he said brought the colour to her face.

Then she turned and caught the Robin who was going past, and sent her for Joey.

That young lady left Frau von Eschenau reluctantly, and came to see what her sister wanted. The tall old man looked at her surprised. ‘But – is this the young lady?’ he asked. ‘I had thought that it must be someone older.’

‘I’m nearly fifteen!’ protested Jo.

He smiled. ‘Nearly fifteen, are you? Well, young lady, I suppose I do not seem a stranger to you? I know that my granddaughter had my portrait in her cubicle, and she had told me that she shares a room with you.’

Joey looked at him again. ‘Great stars!’ she exclaimed. ‘You’re the King!’

His Majesty, King Ridolpho of Belsornia bowed to her. ‘You are right. Do you know why I want to speak to you?’

‘’Cos I’m Elisaveta’s friend,’ replied Joey promptly.

‘That is true; but there is more than that.’

Jo went scarlet. ‘I – I suppose you think I ought to have looked after her better,’ she stammered.

He burst out laughing. ‘Not quite that! No, my child! I want to thank you for what you did in bringing her safely back. It would have been a terrible thing for Belsornia if anything had happened. Will you let me shake hands with you?’

Jo, with a knowledge of very sticky fingers – she had been eating ices – looked rather dismayed, but she put them into his obediently, and then he stooped and kissed her affectionately on the cheek. ‘You will allow an old man the priviledge,’ he said rather huskily.

To Jo’s way of thinking she hadn’t had much say in the matter; however, she promptly kissed him back, which pleased him immensely. Then he sent her to fetch Elisaveta to him, as she didn’t know he was here.

‘You are very good, sire,’ said Madge after the child had gone. ‘I blamed myself for not taking more care of her Highness.’

‘You took every care of her, Madame,’ he replied. ‘There was no blame attached to you. Even if there had been, the action of your little sister in going off as bravely as she did to fetch her back would have wiped it out of sight.’

Then Elisaveta appeared, a rather dazed-looking Elisaveta, who was not accustomed to this amount of interest from her grandfather. She had, indeed, insisted that Joey must have made a mistake somehow, and had almost had to be dragged to the spot by that young lady. However, after that she never doubted again, for the King took her in his arms as if she had been the boy he had so longed for, and held her closely.

Later on, when Jo had been summoned to them again, she said, ‘Oh, your Majesty, what’s happened to the Cosimo thing?’

‘He is dead,’ said the King shortly.

‘
Dead
!’ D’you mean you had him executed?’ Joey was breathless with interest.

The King though it best to tell them exactly what had happened. ‘He was found at the foot of a ravine not far from the German end of the pass,’ he said. ‘No one knows how it happened, but we think he must have slipped and fallen, breaking his neck. So there is nothing further to fear form him.’

‘I see,’ said Jo. She was silent for a minute or two, and his Majesty watched her with a smile. He wondered what she was thinking. It came.

‘If he’s dead, then who’s the next heir?’ demanded Jo.

The King’s arm tightened round Elisaveta. ‘My little granddaughter,’ he said.

Two startled faces confronted him.

‘Me!’ gasped the Princess.

‘Her!’ exclaimed Joey. ‘But I thought you had the Salic law in Belsornia?’

The King nodded. ‘We had,’ he said. ‘Now it is done with, by the wish of the Grand Council and the two Houses of the State.’

Joey thought a minute. ‘Will you take her away then?’ she asked.

‘No,’ said his Majesty, with decision. ‘She will stay here for another year. After that she must come home and learn the lessons that a future queen has to learn, even though she may never come to the throne. But then, I hope, she will not be alone.’