She was now attired in one of Beverly's gowns, and it
was most becoming to her. Her short curly brown hair was done up
properly; her pink and white complexion was as clear as cream, now that
the dust of the road was gone; her dark eyes were glowing with the
wonder and interest of nineteen years, and she was, all in all, a most
enticing bit of femininity.
"You are much more of a princess now than when I first saw you," smiled
Yetive, drawing her down upon the cushions of the window-seat beside
her. Candace was shy and diffident, despite her proper habiliments.
"But she was such a pretty boy," protested Dagmar. "You don't know how
attractive you were in those--"
Candace blushed. "Oh, they were awful, but they were comfortable. One
has to wear trousers if one intends to be a vagabond. I wore them for
more than a week."
"You shall tell us all about it," said Yetive, holding the girl's hand
in hers. "It must have been a most interesting week for you."
"Oh, there is not much to tell, your highness," said Candace, suddenly
reticent and shy. "My step-brother--oh, how I hate him--had condemned
me to die because he thought I was helping Dantan. And I _was_
helping him, too,--all that I could. Old Bappo, master of the stables,
who has loved me for a hundred years, he says, helped me to escape from
the palace at night. They were to have seized me the next morning.
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