"Desiree, I beg you. Dont be late for your coronation."

I shall never forget that sentence. Jean said it a dozen times while Marie and Yvette and Marceline were trying to get me ready. I was wondering all the time whether I looked, like a real Queen. Perhaps not. But I was proud of my coronation robe, because my dear Papa once held the cloth in his hands.

At last I was ready, and we went to my drawing room. Oscar was waiting for us there in his gayest uniform. He was looking at the crowds outside the castle gate.

"I never expected that the people would get so excited about your mothers coronation," said Jean.

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