Oh, the wonder, for Marie-Celeste, of that tour through the private apartments! As for Albert, it is to be doubted if he quite rose to the occasion. Nothing could be more awe-inspiring or majestic than the picture of the Queen he had formed in his mind; but as they were shown from room to room and failed to encounter her, his interest began to flag a little. There were apartments more grand than these, with which he was already familiar, in the other part of the Castle; and when Ainslee hurried them past two or three rooms with the explanation that some of the royal family were in them, he felt some-the very object of their of them, and he thought Ainslee might at least have told them which one, even though they were not to be permitted to have a sight of her. But with Marie-Celeste it was very different, She stood in worshipful admiration before all the royal belongings, and when permitted to gaze into one or two of the bedrooms where royalty actually put itself to bed, behind beautiful embroidered draperies, her sense of the privilege accorded her fairly made her hold her breath. At last, when Ainslee announced that they had made the tour of all the private apartments, they were ushered into a little boudoir where a maid waited in readiness to assist them in making their toilettes for luncheon. The maid, however, standing stiff and straight, with a towel thrown over her arm and a whisk-broom in hand ready to attack them, looked so very formidable that Marie-Celeste begged Ainslee not to leave them; and Ainslee, herself appreciating the overbearing self-importance of the maid Babette, was good enough to accede to her request. And then followed such a freshening of toilette as was fairly humiliating in its thoroughness. The trying feature of the proceeding lay in the fact that they were in no way taken into the confidence of the party officiating, or told what move was impending. Side by side they were thrust on to a little low seat, and their shoes and pumps being quickly removed, were consigned to the keeping of a condescending boots, who, summoned by the touch of an electric bell, carried them away at arm's length. Marie-Celeste was never more thankful in her life than that every button was on, and that Albert's little patent leathers were just as good as new; in fact, that nothing could be urged against those little articles of foot-wear save the grievous offence of dust from the royal garden. Their faces and hands were scrubbed with wholly unnecessary vigor, and in Albert's case even ears, and then both children were thrust on to the little low seat again, and drawing a stool in front of them, Babette laid an elaborate manicure set open upon her lap, and gave her whole mind to the shaping and polishing of their nails--a process in which Albert took great interest, and which was accomplished, it must be confessed, most dexterously and with great expedition.