"Margery and Max," I echoed slowly. "But surely there's no need to trouble
about them. It's a most delightful engagement. They're blissfully happy. I
saw Margery only yesterday ..."
"Oh, the engagement's all right," said the Queen. "As a matter of fact it
was I who really arranged that affair. Of course they think they did it
themselves--people always do--but it would never have come off without me.
No, the trouble is I don't know what to give them for a wedding present.
You see I'm particularly fond of Margery; I've always taken a great
interest in her, and I do want them to have something they'll really like.
But it's so difficult. They have all the essential things already: youth,
health, good fortune, love of course; and I can't go giving them motor-cars
and grandfather clocks and unimportant things of that kind. Now can I?"
I agreed. As it happened I was in a somewhat similar predicament myself,
though from rather different causes.
"Can't you think of _anything_?" she asked a little petulantly, evidently
annoyed at my inadequacy. I shook my head.
"I can't," I said. "But why not find out from them? It's often done. You
might ask Margery what Max would like and then sound him about her."
The Queen brightened up. "What a good idea!" she said. "I'll go at once."
She's very impulsive.
She was back again in half-an-hour, looking pleased and excited. Her cheeks
were like pink rose-leaves.
"It's all right about Max," she said breathlessly. "Margery says the only
thing he wants frightfully badly is a really smashing service. He's rather
bothered about his. So I shall order one for him at once. I'm very pleased;
it seems such a suitable thing for a wedding present. People often give
services, don't they? And now I'll go and find Max." And she was off before
I could utter a sound.
But this time when she returned it was evident that she had been less
successful.
"It's absurd," she said, "perfectly absurd!" She stamped her foot, and yet
she was smiling a little. "I told him I would bestow upon Margery anything
he could possibly think of that she lacked. That any quality of mind or
heart, any beauty, any charm that a girl could desire, should be hers as a
gift. I assured him that there was nothing I could not and would not do for
her. And what do you think? He listened quite attentively and politely--oh,
Max has nice manners--and then he looked me straight in the eyes and 'Thank
you very much,' he said; 'it's most awfully kind of you. I hope you won't
think me ungrateful, but I'm afraid I can't help you at all. There's
nothing--nothing. Margery--well, you see, Margery's perfect.' I was so
annoyed with him that I came away without saying another word. And now I'm
no further than I was before as regards Margery. Mortals really are very
stupid. It's most vexing."
She paused a minute, then suddenly she looked up and flashed a smile at me.
"All the same it was rather darling of him, wasn't it?" she said.