She brought the pretty child forward and stood right in front of the red-faced lady.
"You want a chapeau, Madame. Ah, _c'est drôle, ne c'est pas?_ That is for _la bébé_." She pointed with scorn at the tiny hat. "Here is one for you. See, I am in the despair to oblige you, but behold I have the very thing."
Madame produced a hat from off its stand, covered with flowers, butterflies and small feathers of different colours.
"Behold for yourself, Madame! It came from Paris yesterday."
"It is too showy. I like the little hat best," said Madame of the red face.
"Let me speak," suddenly interrupted little Margot. "Your face behold! it is red and must be softened. You shall wear brown. See, I picture it in my eye," continued Margot, speaking as though she had been acting shop-woman all her days. "A brown hat _très doux_ and one long feather to match. Have you such a hat, Madame?" exclaimed little Margot.
"It is wonderful the taste of the Comtesse," cried Madame. "She sees at once what will suit you, _chère Madame_."
"The Comtesse! That little girl a Comtesse!" cried the astonished red-faced American lady.
"Ah, _oui_, Madame. She is the young Comtesse St. Juste and her taste it is of the most exquisite. Paris itself cannot touch her."
"Why does she come here?" asked the American. "But get me the brown hat with the brown feather. She looks like a child who has pretty taste."
Little Margot stood very silent. She was not going to laugh. Having given her idea she stuck to it. Her grave and lovely eyes were fixed on the American's face. The brown hat was produced in a twinkling. It was tried on. It was pronounced perfect.
"I will have a fan to match," said the American.
"_Ah, oui, c'est bon_," said little Margot. "I will myself choose it for you, Madame."
She chose a fan made of brown feathers with a long tortoise-shell handle.
Immediately the other American ladies buzzed round the brown hat and round the brown fan, and little Margot found herself acting as shopwoman and enjoying herself immensely.
"And now the price, Mademoiselle la Comtesse," said the red-faced American, when all the ladies had been provided with hats and fans.
"I know not," said Margot. "Madame, you will tell the price. For me, I am _fatiguée_." She marched away, hearing however behind her a perfect buzz of remonstrance.