Into the pretty bedroom came the great English doctor, a jolly smile on his face as he approached the bed where his patient was lying. &lsquo;Good-morning, your Highness. How are you this morning?&rsquo; he cried.<br />The little girl on the bed looked at him wearily. &lsquo;I am getting better, thank you,&rsquo; she replied in listless tones which made the doctor frown.<br />The younger man who had entered the room with him bent over the child. &lsquo;Still rather tired, my darling?&rsquo; he asked tenderly.<br />&lsquo;Just a little, daddy.&rsquo;<br />&lsquo;It&rsquo;s the dreadful weather,&rsquo; he said, looking out of the window at the rain which poured steadily down. &lsquo;When it&rsquo;s fine again, you&rsquo;ll soon be all right.&rsquo;<br />&lsquo;Shall I?&rsquo; Her Royal Highness the Princess Elisaveta Margherita of Belsornia looked at her father with a little wondering smile.<br />&lsquo;Why, yes! That is what good Dr Tracy says.&rsquo;<br />The doctor nodded as the great dark eyes were turned on him. &lsquo;Yes, indeed, Highness. It is true. And how would you like to get up for a while this afternoon?&rsquo;<br />The Princess shook her head. &lsquo;I&rsquo;m so tired,&rsquo; she said. &lsquo;I don&rsquo;t think I shall ever want to get up again.&rsquo;