CHAPTER VI.

IN THE FOREST.

MAY, however, was thinking so much of her project that nurse's displeasure passed over her with but little impression. She only made up her mind to wait for an opportunity when they were out together, and she had liberty to enjoy herself.

In the free and happy life which they were leading, she had not much need, however, for the exercise of patience.

Only the next day, as they all sat at breakfast, Lucia said cheerfully—

"Hands up for a day in the forest?"

Nurse, who had just brought in Queenie's breakfast, smiled as all the five pairs of hands went up, quicker than one could imagine possible, while Lucia said—

"Nobody objects, then?"

And after that, they fell to arranging about baskets, and dinner and tea, kettles and spirit-lamps, till the children were wild with anticipation.

It was discovered that Lucia had foreseen that little people (to say nothing of older ones) would be hungry, and had herself walked into Windsor the day before to order a good supply of dainties. There was great excitement to find out what she had provided, but she would not allow a single package to be opened, telling them that they should see when the time came.

They soon got off, and began the rather hot and uphill walk which led from the cottage to the outskirts of the forest.

May had her own little thoughts; under her shady hat, her bright eyes took in the direction and possibilities of every turning and cross road, but she said nothing, keeping close to Lucia most of the time, and saying over and over again to herself, "Mother said we were to enjoy ourselves as much as ever we could, and this is my way!"

Dinner, with Lucia's dainties, was a grand success, and then May's heart began to beat, and she felt her time had come. Nurse was busy packing up the plates, Barbara was helping her, Lucia was picking wild flowers with Queenie, and the two boys were far away, chasing a butterfly. Now was her time, she thought, if she were to see the Queen!

When the butterfly catchers recollected that they were a good way from what they called "camp," they made their way back with all speed, and found nurse resting after her labours by the side of the neatly-packed baskets, Barbara sorting wild flowers into bunches, while Lucia was sitting against a tree, with Queenie asleep in her lap.

"Have we been too long?" asked Evan, colouring. "I never guessed it was such a time—"

"No," answered nurse, "we've been busy; but where is Miss May?"

Ah! Where was Miss May? They waited and waited till they grew anxious, and wished they had not waited at all. And then they began to search near at hand, and wished that they had gone in any direction but the one they had taken. And at last, when all was in vain, and no May was to be seen, Lucia set out towards the Long Walk, and nurse went in the opposite direction, while Evan set off homewards with the rest, promising to send help should the missing sister not be found on the way.

Meanwhile May wandered under the shady forest trees, stepping over the bracken, or jumping from patch to patch of bare grass between them, only intent on getting out of sight of the rest, and towards the wide road which they had passed a little while ago, where she had made up her mind the Queen was sure to pass.

The voices of the butterfly catchers had long since been lost, and nurse's cheerful tones, with Barbara's silvery laugh, had become less and less distinct, till at last there was no sound in the air but the singing birds and the waving trees.

May stood still for a moment. She thought it would be wise to take her bearings, to get into her mind where she was; but when she looked round, there was nothing in the world to mark the direction she had come from.

But May did not concern herself greatly about this. If she saw the Queen, what matter would it be if she had a little trouble in finding Lucia and nurse again!

So she slowly wandered on, though the silence and stillness of the forest rather made her heart quake.

At length she came to a road, and this took off the feeling of loneliness to some extent.

She sat down in a shady place and looked yearningly along it, expecting every moment to see the cloud of dust approaching, and to live over again Lucia's old experience of so many years ago.

But no cloud of dust came; no footfall broke the intense quiet of the scene.

Once a stir among the bracken made her start; but it was only some of the deer who had not noticed the still little figure till they were quite close to it, and then had fled away, shy and frightened.

But still the Queen did not come!

As the hours passed away, and the sun began to shine with slanting rays through the trees, May began to cease to look so earnestly along the road. Her head turned first in one direction and then the other. Was it fancy that made her think the forest was full of voices calling her name?

How fast the sun was sinking! It would be night soon; that solemn, quiet night which she had never spent anywhere but in her own warm little bed!

The air played around her and made her shiver, and thoughts of tea and home began to haunt her.

How many hours must it be since she had had anything to eat? Her dinner? That had been only a mouthful or two, for her heart had been beating so with thoughts of her project that she had been unable to eat. Though she had intended to put some in her pocket, there had not been the opportunity, for she had feared that Evan's sharp eyes and sharper tongue would be sure to disclose her secret, should he notice her doing anything with her sandwiches but eat them.

How she wished that she had not crept away so stealthily when the rest were scattering after dinner. How ashamed she was now of the answer she had given Barbara, as she led Queenie off in the other direction.

"I'm just going over there, Barbara, to get some ferns!"

She had stoutly assured herself then that this was not an untruth; but now—

Poor little May! She was beginning to pay very dearly for her "enjoyment," as many another does who attempts to snatch what is not given!

Oh, how weary she was—how cold! How forlorn!

Thoughts of her mother began to fill her mind, and her conscience pricked her that, although she had carried out the letter of her mother's directions, she had broken the spirit of them.

She buried her face on her knees, and began to cry, and cried long and hopelessly, till she seemed to have no tears left. But at last, as she began to grow quieter, in a kind of resignation to meet her fate, sleep came down upon her heavy eyelids, and she forgot for a little while that she was lost.