The nurses cast a glance down at the veil and satin coverlet which were so motionless.  “Her Royal Highness is asleep,” they whispered to each other with nods.  The nurses were handsome young women, and they wore white lace caps, and beautiful long darned lace aprons.  They swung the Princess’s basket along so easily that finally one of them remarked upon it.

“How very light her Royal Highness is,” said she.

“She weighs absolutely nothing at all,” replied the other nurse who was carrying the Princess, “absolutely nothing at all.”

“Well, that is apt to be the case with such high-born infants,” said the first nurse.  And they all waved their fans again in time to the music.

When they reached the palace, the massive doors were thrown open, and the court passed in.  The nurses bore the Princess Rosetta’s basket up the grand marble stair, and carried it into the nursery.

“We will lift her Royal Highness out very carefully, and possibly we can put her to bed without waking her,” said the Head-nurse.

But her Royal Highness’s ladies-of-the-bed-chamber who were in waiting set up such screams of horror at her remark, that it was a wonder that the Princess did not awake directly.

“O-h!” cried a lady-of-the-bed-chamber, “put her Royal Highness to bed, in defiance of all etiquette, before the Prima Donna of the court has sung her lullaby!  Preposterous!  Lift her out without waking her, indeed!  This nurse should be dismissed from the court!”

“O-h!” cried another lady, tossing her lovely head scornfully, and giving her silken train an indignant swish; “the idea of putting her Royal Highness to bed without the silver cup of posset, which I have here for her!”

“And without taking her rose-water bath!” cried another, who was dabbling her lily fingers in a little ivory bath filled with rose-water.

“And without being anointed with this Cream of Lilies!” cried one with a little ivory jar in her hand.

“And without having every single one of her golden ringlets dressed with this pomade scented with violets and almonds!” cried one with a round porcelain box.

“Or even having her curls brushed!” cried a lady as if she were fainting, and she brandished an ivory hair-brush set with turquoises.

“I suppose,” remarked a lady who was very tall and majestic in her carriage, “that this nurse would not object to her Royal Highness being put to bed without—­her nightgown, even!”

And she held out the Princess’s little embroidered nightgown, and gazed at the Head-nurse with an awful air.

“I beg your pardon humbly, my Ladies,” responded the Head-nurse meekly.  Then she bent over the basket to lift out the Princess.

Every one stood listening for her Royal Highness’s pitiful scream when she should awake.  The lady with the cup of posset held it in readiness, and the ladies with the Cream of Lilies, the violet and almond pomade and the ivory hair-brush looked anxious to begin their duties.  The Prima Donna stood with her song in hand, and the first court fiddler had his bow raised all ready to play the accompaniment for her.  Writing a fresh lullaby for the Princess every day, and setting it to music, were among the regular duties of the Poet Laureate and the first musical composer of the court.