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“Do you really think so? Do you really, Prissy?” she asked. Then her face brightened. “Oh no; he can’t be, ’cause I hid them where I know he wouldn’t think of looking!”

“Would you like to come and sit between us again?” asked her father.

“No, fank you; but I’d like Priscilla to sit here, and I’d have her place and drive. She may hold my parasol if she likes—if she doesn’t open it,” she added.

“Priscilla is too big to sit where you are. Would you like to sit down on the mat at our feet?”

“No, fank you; but I’d like to sit where Priscilla is.”

“But where can Priscilla sit?”

“Can’t she walk just a little way?”

“I am afraid not.”

“Well, I’d like to sit in her seat,” persisted Loveday; “and put my head on yours, and go to sleep.”

“Oh, so you want my place as well as Prissy’s! You aren’t at all a greedy little person, are you? Where are we to sit? On the shafts, or the steps, or must we run behind? I will tell you what we will do. I will sit in Priscilla’s place and hold you on my knee, and Priscilla shall have the box-seat and drive us. Will that please your High Mightiness?”