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Little Jeanne of France
Little Jeanne of France
PREFACE
When I began to write these stories about children of all lands I had just returned from Europe whither I journeyed with Marie and Ref. Maybe you don't know Marie and Ref. I'll introduce them: Please meet Marie, my very little daughter, and Ref, my very big reflex camera.
These two are my helpers. Marie helps by being a little girl who knows what other little girls like and by telling me; and Ref helps by snapping pictures of everything interesting that Marie and I see on our travels. I couldn't get along without them.
Several years have gone by since we started our work together and Marie is a bigger girl – but Ref hasn't changed one bit. Ref hasn't changed any more than my interest in writing these books for you. And I hope that you hope that I'll never change, because I want to keep on writing until we'll have no more countries to write about – unless, of course, some one discovers a new country.
Even if a new country isn't discovered, we'll find foreign children to talk about – maybe the children in Mars! Who knows? Nobody. Not even Marie – and Marie usually knows about most things. That's the reason why, you see, though I sign myself
I am really only
Marie's Mother.
DEDICATION
To every child of every land,
Little sister, little brother,
As in this book your lives unfold,
May you learn to love each other.
CHAPTER I
MADAME VILLARD
"The baby is a dear little dark-haired girl, Madame Villard (vē-lär´)," said the nurse.
Madame Villard came forward, and her face expressed the joy in her heart.
It was the twilight hour. Paris was busily honking and tooting outside the broad windows of Madame Villard's apartment.
The apartment looked out upon one of Paris' finest avenues. And Paris has many fine avenues. This had been Madame Villard's home for many years.
It was here she had raised her family – her boy and her girl. It was the same girl whose "dear little, dark-haired baby" had just come into the world.
"May I – may I see her?" asked Madame Villard softly.
The nurse led her into the room, and the grandmother looked with tear-dimmed eyes upon this first grandchild.
Baby Margot (mär´-gō) was Madame's first grandchild. At least, that is what Madame thought. Little did Madame Villard know that at this same moment another grandchild of hers was opening wondering brown eyes upon the same world!
The same world and the same country, France! Yet how different was this other grandchild's world from the world of little Margot!
Little soft, comfy Margot in her billowy pink and lace down! Little soft, cuddly Margot, whom Grandmother took into her arms that day! All the while, she did not know about the other grandchild.