CHAPTER XXVII.
THE Royal Sociable Evening had been begun much earlier than usual, in order that its pleasures might not be curtailed and there might, nevertheless, be time, before the morrow began by the clock, for Daffodil’s passage forth to the regions whence she had come to Croäxaxica. But the enjoyments of the evening were so great and so many that the hours for them scarcely sufficed and it was almost to‐morrow when Queen Raucacoäxine, startled to find how late it was, gave the signal for the breaking up of the party. Daffodil had been for a long while in anxious suspense when, in a tearing hurry, the Crown Prince came to convey her to the Royal Throne Hall.
“Has not to‐morrow begun?” she asked, with a tremor in her voice.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “Take my hand and spring with me as hard as you can.”
All the servants within the Palace had gone to bed, and the Crown Prince had ordered away the sentries at the entrance from the private grounds to his part of the Palace, telling them his apartments were quite safe for that night without them, and page: 407 they should have a holiday in honour of the visit of the King and Queen of Grachidichika. He was able to lead Daffodil in secrecy to the Great Throne Hall. There Queen Raucacoäxine, her two elder daughters, the Crown Princess, Brekekex and Croässaquagha, the Professor of Everything, and the Head Royal Physician were assembled, having stolen thither by different ways. Brekekex and Croässaquagha had brought with them, too, their Royal and Matrimonial Chief Valet and their Head Royal and Matrimonial Lady’s‐maid, whose services might be useful and who had begged they might be allowed to attend Daffodil’s departure. The Throne Hall was a blaze of brightness, all the lighting‐water having been turned on to the fullest, in the hurry, but Daffodil’s eyes grew too full of tears for her to see friends’ faces that she knew she could never see again. And there were sounds of “Oh what a pity she must go!” “Dear Daffodil!” “Oh won’t she ever come back to us?” But there was no time left now for last kind words and farewells. Quickly there was formed a living ladder, such as they use in Croäxaxica: the Royal and Matrimonial Chief Valet, the Head Royal Physician, the Regius Professor of Everything, King Brekekex, and the Crown Prince, stood, one on the other’s shoulders, and then, when it was seen that the height attained would not suffice for Daffodil, who could not spring as the Croäxaxicans can, to gain the ceiling safely, Princess Guachapeara and Queen Croässaquagha sprang lightly upwards from one member of the ladder to another and added themselves to its length. The Head Royal and Matrimonial Lady’s‐ page: 408 maid would have liked to give her service, but it was not possible to allow her to stand on the Royal Family and, for want of time, the ladder could not be formed anew to put her in the lower part.
“Make haste, Daffodil,” all cried; for the latest minute was at hand. She sprang up the friendly ladder and, bounding on, caught a tuft of pendant lily‐leaves and swung herself by them to the roof. Resting in a knotted tangle of lilies and bulrushes, she drew from her pouch the shell with the elf‐cup, and touched the roof with the flower. Instantly there was a rift; it widened; a strong air seemed to seize her and suck her upwards before she was aware—“Oh good‐bye,” she cried “good‐b—” And she was away from those to whom she spoke, up above, struggling to rise from the black mud at the bottom of the river.
She had not to struggle long. There were river people waiting for her in that perilous moment: they caught her in their arms and drew her up to the surface of the water. She did not know whence the help came, but she felt the supporting clasp and rested in it, floating to the shore.
It was night—summer night, but she felt chill in the unaccustomed air; and there was only the glitter of stars for light. She could not tell how to find her way home through the wood. She lay down on the bank, faint and cold. The river people sang her to sleep, and kept her sheltered, and when the sun rose they placed her where the rays fell warm upon her. And some of the river maidens washed away all the mud from her, and dressed her in clothes woven of the silky fringes of shell‐fishes— page: 409 clothes that shone gently as if they had been woven of moonbeams and sea water and that were as soft as down. And they combed the sunbeams into her hair, so that, though it had grown dimmed below, it sparkled more than ever. When the day had really begun, the river people kissed her and left her to awake alone.
Her heart was full of her home now; she had no need to try to remember. She went bounding to the house, in her Croäxaxican way, and old Keziah thought it was a river maiden, clothed in a wave, bursting through the air; but the cat and the dog knew her at once and rushed to her with every sort of welcoming din they could force out of their throats. Keziah’s delight when she found the wonderful girl was her own Daffodil was extreme, you may be sure. As to the joy of the father, mother, and daughter, when they were together again, I shall not say anything, for everybody who has had a father and mother and everybody who has had a child will know about it without my telling, and nobody else need read this story.
Daffodil found her shell in her hand when she awoke on the river bank; but the elf‐cup had vanished. And no new elf‐cup grew in her shell. There did sprout there some of the little beads, but she could find no means of keeping them alive: they shrivelled, then vanished without a trace. And she never found another elf‐cup. So she never had it in her power to pay a second visit to Croäxaxica.
