The room they were in was opulent, with tapestries on the walls and rich fabrics covering the furniture. But the fabric of the princess’s dress was absolutely sumptuous. There was a triangular piece of material, narrow at the top and wide at the bottom, that extended from the waistline of the dress and made the skirt flare. The edges of the triangle were outlined with minuscule ruby-red beads. So cool! Rose thought, as she made a mental note. She would sketch it when she got back—if she got back! That thought was a bit startling, yet she could not help but marvel at the dress. And to think that a seamstress did all this with no sewing machine! She wished her own sewing machine would arrive. The boxes Caroline had sent from Philadelphia were taking forever to get to Indianapolis. When she got back to her own time, she was definitely going to google Elizabethan clothing.

Through an arched doorway, Rose glimpsed another room. She couldn’t tell if it was smaller or larger.

“So you’re the new maid, are you?” Princess Elizabeth said, then turned abruptly to Mrs. Dobkins. “You may leave, Mrs. Dobkins.”

“Certainly, milady,” Mrs. Dobkins said as she curtsied and backed out of the door.

The girl sighed and suddenly broke into sobs, burying her face in her hands.

“Oh, miss, what can I do?”

“Are you a ghost?” the princess asked, drawing her hands from her face.

“A ghost? Of course not.”

“There was a girl who once was a servant here. She fell into a well and drowned.” She paused. “I thought I saw a girl about your age a few days past on a pathway. I called my guards, as I thought it was the ghost of the drowned girl at first. But now I see you look nothing like Becky the servant girl.”

“Not in the least. I haven’t come to haunt you but to serve you. I am no ghost.”

But in that minute Rose realized that it was she who had fallen into a ghost world. She was real, but everyone else was a ghost of a time long past, centuries gone.

“To serve me—yes! Of course.” The girl pulled herself up and squared her shoulders. Despite her pink nose and tearstained face, she suddenly looked quite severe. “Well, to begin, you can address me properly—Your Royal Highness. For though I am banished, I am still, so far as I know, a princess! And the first time upon meeting a princess, one says ‘Your Royal Highness.’ Subsequently you may use an abbreviated form.”

“And what is that, if you please, Your Royal Highness?”

“Milady.”

“Yes, milady.” Rose dipped into a small curtsy that somehow she knew was required, even though she was curtsying to a girl at least a few years younger. Dare she say a little more? “I . . . I . . . am so sorry for your situation.” Elizabeth looked up at her now.