Captain January | Page 4

and she glanced down at her velvet splendour. "I must go and take it off," she said, sadly.
"Not you, Honeysuckle," said the old man, rising and setting the child down carefully in the chair. "Sit you there, and be a real princess, and I will be your steward, and get supper this time. I like to see you in your fine clothes, and 'twould be a shame to take 'em off so soon."
She clapped her hands again, and settling herself cosily in the great chair, arranged her train with a graceful sweep, and pushed back her cloudy golden hair.
"Shall I really act princess?" she asked,--and without waiting for an answer, she began to give orders in lofty tones, holding her head high in the air, and pointing hither and thither with her tiny hands. "Take up the golden chafing-dish, Grumio!" she cried. "The kidneys--I mean the capons--are quite ready now. And the milk--no! the sack--is in the silver flagon!" she pointed to an ancient blue jug which stood on the dresser.
The obedient Captain hastened to take up the saucepan, and soon the frugal supper was set out, and princess and steward were doing ample justice to it.
"You didn't say 'Anon! anon! Madam' when I ordered you about," said the Princess, thoughtfully. "You ought to, you know. Servants always do in the book."
"Wal, I didn't think on't," the steward admitted. "I wa'n't brought up to the business, you see, Princess. It always seemed to me a foolish thing to say, anyhow: no disrespect to W. Shakespeare. The hull of the word's 'anonymous,' I believe, and the dictionary says that means 'wanting a name.' So, altogether, Star Bright, I haven't been able to make much sense out o' that answer."
"Oh, never mind!" said the Princess, tossing her head. "I don't like the dictionary. It's a wretch!"
"So 'tis, so 'tis," assented the Captain, with servile alacrity. "Have some more milk then, Sunshine."
"It isn't milk! it's sack," said the child, promptly, holding out her small yellow mug with a royal air. "Are the capons good, Grumio?"
"They are, my lamb, they are," replied the Captain. "Oncommon good they are, to be sure, and me not knowin' to this day what capons was. A little more? Yes, Pigeon Pie, I will take a little more, thank ye kindly."
"I don't _think_, Grumio, that you ought to call me lambs and pigeon pies just now," remarked the Princess, judiciously. "Do you think it's respectful? they don't in Shakespeare, I'm sure."
"I won't do it again, Honey--I mean Madam;" said the Captain, bowing with great humility. "I beg your honourable majesty's pardon, and I won't never presume to--"
"Yes, you will!" cried the Princess, flinging herself across the table at him, and nearly choking him with the sudden violence of her embrace. "You shall call me pigeon pie, and anything else you like. You shall call me rye porridge, though I hate it, and it's always full of lumps. And don't ever look that way again; it kills me!"
The Captain quietly removed the clinging arms, and kissed them, and set the half-weeping child back in her place. "There, there, there!" he said, soothingly. "What a little tempest it is!"
"Say 'delicate Ariel,'" sobbed Star. "You haven't said it to-day, and you always say it when you love me."
"Cream Cheese from the dairy of Heaven," replied the Captain; "if I always said it when I loved you, I should be sayin' it every minute of time, as well you know. But you are my delicate Ariel, so you are, and there ain't nothin' in the hull book as suits you better. So!" and his supper ended, the good man turned his chair again to the fire, and took the child, once more smiling, upon his knee.
"And now, Ariel, what have you been doin' all the time I was away? Tell Daddy all about it."
Star pondered a moment, with her head on one side, and a finger hooked confidentially through the Captain's buttonhole. "Well," she said, "I've had a very interesting time, Daddy Captain. First I cleaned the lamps, of course, and filled and trimmed them. And then I played Samson a good while; and--"
"And how might you play Samson?" inquired the Captain.
"With flies!" replied Star, promptly. "Heaps upon heaps, you know; 'With the jaw-bone of an ass have I slain a thousand men.' The flies were the Philistines, and I took a clam-shell for the jaw-bone; it did just as well. And I made a song out of it, to one of the tunes you whistle: 'With the jaw-bone! with the jaw-bone! with the jaw-bone of an ass!' It was very exciting."
"Must ha' been," said the Captain dryly. "Well, Honeysuckle, what did you do then?"
"Oh, that took some time!" said the child. "And afterward I fished a little, but I didn't catch anything,