That was because the ceiling wall paper was leathery brown. In the front and back parlors, the floor became delicately blue, with darker blue scrolls visible when you tilted the mirror just a little. The dining room was the nicest of all. There the floor was thrillingly red and gold.
“This is the Throne Room,” Betsy said, and they walked around the Throne Room. “Now,” she continued, “we’ll inspect the Royal Kitchens.”
They started toward the kitchen but Tib checked them.
“We’d better not go out there,” she said. “Matilda’s ironing. Maybe she wouldn’t like this walkingaround with mirrors. Especially when one of them’s hers.”
“Maybe not,” Betsy and Tacy agreed.
“Anyway,” said Tacy, looking around the dining room with its rich red and gold walls, the sideboard laden with silver and the long table spread with a heavy woven cloth and a silver dish filled with oranges, “Anyway I think it would be fun to play right here in the Throne Room.”
“Oh yes!” cried Betsy. “We’ll make a throne for Aunt Dolly.”
“But where
is
Aunt Dolly?” asked Tib.
“When you look in the mirror,” said Betsy, “that makes Aunt Dolly.”
Betsy pulled out Tib’s father’s armchair which sat at the head of the table, and Tib ran to get her mother’s paisley shawl. It was old; she was allowed to play with it. They draped it over the chair and pushed the chair up against the window. The window’s red draperies made a majestic background.
Tacy was inspecting the sideboard.
“Some of this silver would come in handy around a throne,” she said. “But maybe we shouldn’t touch it.”
“We’ll put it all back,” Betsy said.
“You decorate while I get something,” said Tib. She ran away and came back wearing her mother’s feather boa.
At the right of the throne Betsy and Tacy had put the silver coffee urn; at the left, the silver teapot.
“She can use this big ladle for a sceptre,” said Betsy. “But what will we do for a crown?”
“The sugar bowl’s a good shape,” said Tacy. “But it’s full of sugar lumps.”
“The spoon holder,” said Betsy, “is just the thing.”
So they dumped out the tea spoons and clamped the spoon holder upside down upon Tib’s head. Her little yellow curls sprang out beneath the silver bowl. With the fluffy feather boa she looked supremely queenlike.
“Now look into your mirror and you’ll turn into Queen Dolly,” Betsy cried.
Tib looked into the mirror and Betsy took the silver fruit dish and went down upon one knee.
“Will your Majesty deign to eat an orange?” she asked.
Tacy began to giggle as she seized the sugar bowl and bowed.
“Some sugar, I prithee, Queen,” she said.
Queen Dolly crooked her little finger and accepted an orange and a sugar lump.
Just then Freddie burst in through the swinging door. He had left his sled outside, of course, and his rubbers beside the kitchen door, and his coat and cap and muffler in the kitchen closet, but his pinkcheeks brought in the out-of-doors.
“Whatcha playing?” he asked.
“We’re playing Mirror Palace,” Betsy answered. “Tib’s playing she’s Aunt Dolly.”
“And Aunt Dolly’s the Queen,” Tacy explained.
Freddie looked puzzled. He knew how to play that someone was another person, but he hadn’t ever played that someone was
two
other persons. He thought he had better change the subject.
“We’re not supposed to play in the dining room,” he said.
“Why, Freddie!” Betsy cried. “We’re not playing in the dining room. This is the Throne Room.” And she explained about the Mirror Palace. Freddie looked down into the mirror Tib was holding, and he could see for himself what a shining mysterious room the mirror held.
“But Tib ought to be upside down,” he remarked.
“What?” exclaimed Betsy and Tacy.
“Her feet ought to be on the Mirror Palace floor.”
Betsy and Tacy looked dismayed. It was perfectly true. If the ceiling of the dining room,
“This is the Throne Room,” Betsy said, and they walked around the Throne Room. “Now,” she continued, “we’ll inspect the Royal Kitchens.”
They started toward the kitchen but Tib checked them.
“We’d better not go out there,” she said. “Matilda’s ironing. Maybe she wouldn’t like this walkingaround with mirrors. Especially when one of them’s hers.”
“Maybe not,” Betsy and Tacy agreed.
“Anyway,” said Tacy, looking around the dining room with its rich red and gold walls, the sideboard laden with silver and the long table spread with a heavy woven cloth and a silver dish filled with oranges, “Anyway I think it would be fun to play right here in the Throne Room.”
“Oh yes!” cried Betsy. “We’ll make a throne for Aunt Dolly.”
“But where
is
Aunt Dolly?” asked Tib.
“When you look in the mirror,” said Betsy, “that makes Aunt Dolly.”
Betsy pulled out Tib’s father’s armchair which sat at the head of the table, and Tib ran to get her mother’s paisley shawl. It was old; she was allowed to play with it. They draped it over the chair and pushed the chair up against the window. The window’s red draperies made a majestic background.
Tacy was inspecting the sideboard.
“Some of this silver would come in handy around a throne,” she said. “But maybe we shouldn’t touch it.”
“We’ll put it all back,” Betsy said.
“You decorate while I get something,” said Tib. She ran away and came back wearing her mother’s feather boa.
At the right of the throne Betsy and Tacy had put the silver coffee urn; at the left, the silver teapot.
“She can use this big ladle for a sceptre,” said Betsy. “But what will we do for a crown?”
“The sugar bowl’s a good shape,” said Tacy. “But it’s full of sugar lumps.”
“The spoon holder,” said Betsy, “is just the thing.”
So they dumped out the tea spoons and clamped the spoon holder upside down upon Tib’s head. Her little yellow curls sprang out beneath the silver bowl. With the fluffy feather boa she looked supremely queenlike.
“Now look into your mirror and you’ll turn into Queen Dolly,” Betsy cried.
Tib looked into the mirror and Betsy took the silver fruit dish and went down upon one knee.
“Will your Majesty deign to eat an orange?” she asked.
Tacy began to giggle as she seized the sugar bowl and bowed.
“Some sugar, I prithee, Queen,” she said.
Queen Dolly crooked her little finger and accepted an orange and a sugar lump.
Just then Freddie burst in through the swinging door. He had left his sled outside, of course, and his rubbers beside the kitchen door, and his coat and cap and muffler in the kitchen closet, but his pinkcheeks brought in the out-of-doors.
“Whatcha playing?” he asked.
“We’re playing Mirror Palace,” Betsy answered. “Tib’s playing she’s Aunt Dolly.”
“And Aunt Dolly’s the Queen,” Tacy explained.
Freddie looked puzzled. He knew how to play that someone was another person, but he hadn’t ever played that someone was
two
other persons. He thought he had better change the subject.
“We’re not supposed to play in the dining room,” he said.
“Why, Freddie!” Betsy cried. “We’re not playing in the dining room. This is the Throne Room.” And she explained about the Mirror Palace. Freddie looked down into the mirror Tib was holding, and he could see for himself what a shining mysterious room the mirror held.
“But Tib ought to be upside down,” he remarked.
“What?” exclaimed Betsy and Tacy.
“Her feet ought to be on the Mirror Palace floor.”
Betsy and Tacy looked dismayed. It was perfectly true. If the ceiling of the dining room,
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