“It isn’t!” screamed Hester; “I won’t have it so!  I’m going to be Queen!”

She fairly snatched the crown from Marjorie’s head, and whisked it onto her own head.

As it had been made to fit Midget’s thick mop of curls, it was too big for Hester, and came down over her ears, and well over her eyes.

“Ho! ho!” jeered Dick; “a nice Queen you look!  Ho! ho!”

But by this time Hester was in one of her regular tantrums.

“I will be Queen!” she shrieked; “I will, I tell you!”

“Come on, Mops, let’s go home,” said King, quietly.

The Maynard children were unaccustomed to outbursts of temper, and King didn’t know exactly what to say to the little termagant.

“All right, we’ll go home, too,” said Tom; “come on, boys!”

They all started off, leaving Hester in solitary possession of Sand Court.

The child, when in one of her rages, had an ungovernable temper, and, left alone, she vented it by smashing everything she could.  She upset the throne, tore down the decorations, and flew around like a wildcat.

Marjorie, who had turned to look at her, said: 

“You go on, King; I’m going back to speak to Hester.”

“I’m afraid she’ll hurt you,” objected King.

“No, she won’t; I’ll be kind to her.”

“All right, Midge; a soft answer turneth away rats, but I don’t know about wildcats!”

“Well, you go on.”  And Marjorie turned, and went back to Sand Court.

“Say, Hester,” she began a little timidly.

“Go away from here, Stuck-up!  Spoiled child!  I don’t want to see you!”

As a matter of fact, Hester presented a funny sight.  She was a plain child, and her shock of red hair was straight and untractable.  Her scowling face was flushed with anger, and the gold paper crown was pushed down over one ear in ridiculous fashion.

Marjorie couldn’t help laughing, which, naturally, only irritated Hester the more.

“Yes, giggle!” she cried; “old Smarty-Cat! old Proudy!”

“Oh, Hester, don’t!” said Midget, bursting into tears.  “How can you be so cross to me?  I don’t mean to be stuck-up and proud, and I don’t think I am.  You can be Queen if you want to, and we’ll have the election thing all right.  Please don’t be so mean to me!”

“Can I be Queen?” demanded Hester, a little mollified; “can I, really?”

“Why, yes, if the boys agree.  They have as much say as I do.”

“They don’t either!  You have all the say!  You always do!  Now, promise you’ll make the boys let me be Queen, or,—­or I won’t play!”

Hester ended her threat rather lamely, as she couldn’t think of any dire punishment which she felt sure she could carry out.

“I promise,” said Marjorie, who really felt it was just that Hester should be Queen for a time.

“All right, then,” and Hester’s stormy face cleared a little.  “See that you keep your promise.”