"And a high hat, with plumes, on her head, and--"
"A very low dwarf at her heels," added Arthur.
"Was there really a dwarf, Mary?" asked Harry.
"There was," said I.
"Had he a hump, or was he only a plain dwarf?"
"He was a very plain dwarf," said Arthur.
"Does Arthur know the story, Mary?"
"No, Harry, he doesn't; and he oughtn't to interfere till I come to a
stop."
"Beg pardon, Mary. Drive on."
"The Queen was very much delighted with all fair flowers, and she had
a garden so full of them that it was called the Earthly Paradise."
There was a long-drawn and general "Oh!" of admiration.
"But though she was a Queen, she couldn't have flowers in the winter,
not even in an Earthly Paradise."
"Don't you suppose she had a greenhouse, by the bye, Mary?" said
Arthur.
"Oh, Arthur," cried Harry, "I do wish you'd be quiet: when you know
it's a fairy story, and that Queens of that sort never had
greenhouses or anything like we have now."
"And so the King's Apothecary and Herbarist, whose name was John
Parkinson--"
"I shouldn't have thought he would have had a common name like that,"
said Harry.
"Bessy's name is Parkinson," said Adela.
"Well, I can't help it; his name _was_ John Parkinson."
"Drive on, Mary!" said Arthur.
"And he made her a book, called the Book of Paradise, in which there
were pictures and written accounts of her flowers, so that when she
could not see any of them fresh upon the ground, she could read about
them, and think about them, and count up how many she had.
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