(“I said one sausage, Emily, one-one-one-one sausage,” she had exploded almost two years ago. “Do I have to pass a royal decree to make that clear? I know my larder is full enough to provide me with six sausages, and I know I am a constitutional monarch with very limited powers, but I should have enough authority—or maybe I should consult the Prime Minister on the question?—to get one sausage when one sausage is all the sausage I want!” “Yes, ma’am,” Emily had said, and rushed down to the chamberlain to ask him please personally to instruct the kitchen.) She was not exactly tired, but she was a little bored and saw no point in unnecessarily accelerating her schedule and thereby increasing the length of her day. Being Queen was a marvelous job, really, with no end of compensations, but she had to admit that whereas she was awfully skeptical when her cousin, during her brief reign, complained on one occasion at Sandringham about the burdens of office, she knew now that her predecessor had been entirely correct.
