she said, ‘there is nothing so grand as this.’
Lenchen grimaced and said: ‘But your palaces sound so much more fun.’ Then she added: ‘And you should see Windsor. It’s worse than this.’
‘Osborne and Balmoral are lovely,’ said Alice.
‘Oh, what a pity Alix can’t go to Osborne and Balmoral,’ cried Louise.
Then they told her about Osborne in the Isle of Wight and how they could see the sea from the windows; and how they played on the sands and went sea bathing. And Balmoral … Balmoral was the best of the lot although there was no sea. They rode out on their ponies and Papa would take them for long walks and they collected stones and grasses and flowers and Papa knew all about flowers.
Alix questioned this as she would have done at home. Her father said that only God knew all about everything.
‘Only God and our papa,’ said Lenchen.
‘Who said your papa did?’ Alix wanted to know.
‘Our mama,’ replied Lenchen. ‘And she must be right because she is the Queen.’
That settled it.
So it was a very happy afternoon at Buckingham Palace in spite of the grandeur and the terrifying aspect of the Queen.
Riding back to Cambridge Lodge in the carriage Mary asked Alix how she had enjoyed visiting the Queen.
‘Very much,’ replied Alix. ‘Well, not exactly the Queen but the Princesses.’
‘You will be able to tell them at home that the Queen of England spoke to you.’
Alix agreed though she doubted that Fredy, Willy and Dagmar would be impressed. Uncle Frederick was a king and nobody was very excited when he spoke to them.
At last it was time to go home and there was the excitement of reunion with the family. They all wanted to hear what had happened and see what presents she had brought for them.
But after a while the excitement was forgotten and the visit seemed to have happened long, long ago.
But the Cambridges did not forget.
‘What a charming child Alix is!’ said the Duchess to Mary. ‘I’m not surprised you’re taken with her. One day the Prince of Wales will need a wife.’
‘That’s years away.’
‘You’d be surprised how time flies. And when he does I don’t see why your Alix shouldn’t be in the running.’
Mary was very pleased with the idea. She would bear it in mind.
One of the loveliest days of the year at the Yellow Palace was Christmas Eve, when the old traditional feast of Jul took place. For weeks before they had all been unbearably excited, making their presents for each other which must be kept a secret, and how difficult that was with children running in and out of the schoolroom at any time of the day. Alix was good with her needle – far better than she was at mathematics, geography or history; although she was moderately good at languages and better still at music; she excelled most at sport and riding which pleased her father; her mother was gratified by her aptitude with the needle, particularly her flair for clothes as, she confided to Christian, if she made a brilliant marriage and was able to employ the best dressmakers in the world, she would be outstanding by her individual way of wearing her clothes. This was a feminine angle which Christian shrugged aside; all he knew was that Alix, secretly his favourite daughter, was a delight to look at, and to see her turning somersaults on the lawns of Bernstorff or in the gardens of the Yellow Palace filled him with admiration and pride.
It was cold and the snow was piling in the streets.
‘Just what Christmas ought to be!’ said Alix.
Little Dagmar, three years younger than Alix, regarded her sister as an oracle and Alix reminded her of other Christmases at the Yellow Palace when the poor people had come in and been given cake and wine by the family.
‘I remember Mama’s watching how much they ate and drank because she was afraid there wouldn’t be enough to go round.’
‘I wish we didn’t have to be so poor,’ said Dagmar.
Alix considered this and decided that it would be better
Lenchen grimaced and said: ‘But your palaces sound so much more fun.’ Then she added: ‘And you should see Windsor. It’s worse than this.’
‘Osborne and Balmoral are lovely,’ said Alice.
‘Oh, what a pity Alix can’t go to Osborne and Balmoral,’ cried Louise.
Then they told her about Osborne in the Isle of Wight and how they could see the sea from the windows; and how they played on the sands and went sea bathing. And Balmoral … Balmoral was the best of the lot although there was no sea. They rode out on their ponies and Papa would take them for long walks and they collected stones and grasses and flowers and Papa knew all about flowers.
Alix questioned this as she would have done at home. Her father said that only God knew all about everything.
‘Only God and our papa,’ said Lenchen.
‘Who said your papa did?’ Alix wanted to know.
‘Our mama,’ replied Lenchen. ‘And she must be right because she is the Queen.’
That settled it.
So it was a very happy afternoon at Buckingham Palace in spite of the grandeur and the terrifying aspect of the Queen.
Riding back to Cambridge Lodge in the carriage Mary asked Alix how she had enjoyed visiting the Queen.
‘Very much,’ replied Alix. ‘Well, not exactly the Queen but the Princesses.’
‘You will be able to tell them at home that the Queen of England spoke to you.’
Alix agreed though she doubted that Fredy, Willy and Dagmar would be impressed. Uncle Frederick was a king and nobody was very excited when he spoke to them.
At last it was time to go home and there was the excitement of reunion with the family. They all wanted to hear what had happened and see what presents she had brought for them.
But after a while the excitement was forgotten and the visit seemed to have happened long, long ago.
But the Cambridges did not forget.
‘What a charming child Alix is!’ said the Duchess to Mary. ‘I’m not surprised you’re taken with her. One day the Prince of Wales will need a wife.’
‘That’s years away.’
‘You’d be surprised how time flies. And when he does I don’t see why your Alix shouldn’t be in the running.’
Mary was very pleased with the idea. She would bear it in mind.
One of the loveliest days of the year at the Yellow Palace was Christmas Eve, when the old traditional feast of Jul took place. For weeks before they had all been unbearably excited, making their presents for each other which must be kept a secret, and how difficult that was with children running in and out of the schoolroom at any time of the day. Alix was good with her needle – far better than she was at mathematics, geography or history; although she was moderately good at languages and better still at music; she excelled most at sport and riding which pleased her father; her mother was gratified by her aptitude with the needle, particularly her flair for clothes as, she confided to Christian, if she made a brilliant marriage and was able to employ the best dressmakers in the world, she would be outstanding by her individual way of wearing her clothes. This was a feminine angle which Christian shrugged aside; all he knew was that Alix, secretly his favourite daughter, was a delight to look at, and to see her turning somersaults on the lawns of Bernstorff or in the gardens of the Yellow Palace filled him with admiration and pride.
It was cold and the snow was piling in the streets.
‘Just what Christmas ought to be!’ said Alix.
Little Dagmar, three years younger than Alix, regarded her sister as an oracle and Alix reminded her of other Christmases at the Yellow Palace when the poor people had come in and been given cake and wine by the family.
‘I remember Mama’s watching how much they ate and drank because she was afraid there wouldn’t be enough to go round.’
‘I wish we didn’t have to be so poor,’ said Dagmar.
Alix considered this and decided that it would be better
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