Her house was nearly large enough to hold an old-fashioned four-posted bedstead, such as they have at my Aunt Sarah's.

The little room that was cut off from the main apartment was really too small to count.

The queen was hard at work, sitting on her door-stone by the side of her bits of sugar-cane and pepper-pods.

There were no customers.

She was a good-looking old body, about sixty, perhaps, but tall and straight enough for all queenly purposes.
She arose and shook hands with us, and then stepped into her door-way and courtesied.