Homecoming

"Welcome Home!" roared half a million voices from the crowd clustered 40-deep along the Portsmouth waterfront. Naval batteries thundered salutes. Sirens howled. And from a forest of mastheads bobbing in the harbor royal ensigns dipped in respectful greeting. On the quarter-deck of the Vanguard the Royal Family stood once again, berry-brown and beaming at the end of their 14,000-mile, three-month trip. As the great, grey battleship that had carried them so far slid gracefully into her home berth once more, Princess Elizabeth was so excited that she broke into a dance step. "Oh," cried a dockside onlooker, as the Duke of Gloucester went bounding up the gangplank to greet his relatives, "it's good to have them back!"

A Craned Neck. In London next day, many another joyful, loyal subject felt the same. It was spring, the Royal Family were home again, and it was the tenth anniversary of the coronation as well. London was in holiday mood. The travelers had spent one last night aboard the Vanguard in Portsmouth (early-rising dockyard workers scrupulously observed a zone of silence about the ship so the family could sleep until 8 a.m.), but by 9 in the morning the London crowds had already begun to gather at Buckingham Palace, munching sandwiches on the curbs. Drab Government buildings were decked with flowers, and window boxes sprouted on all sides.

At 12:30, a ripple ran through the throngs lining the route from Waterloo Station. But it was only Queen Mary, sedate and ramrod-backed, in her maroon Daimler. The real cheers came half an hour later, when six prancing white police horses stepped along the broad, sanded Mall leading a shining, black state landau with scarlet-coated outriders. In the carriage, her pink ostrich feathers bobbing gaily, sat the Queen, King George beside her, in naval blues; and opposite their parents, riding backwards, the Princesses. As they drove past the cheering crowds, Margaret couldn't resist craning round once to see how near home they were getting.

Quick Peek. After the procession passed, everyone surged toward the Palace. While the crowd roared good-natured advice, five elderly gentlemen hastened to drape the royal balcony with a huge bolt of gold-trimmed cloth. The royal foursome stepped out, waving and smiling while the crowd sang "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow!" Five minutes later the King shepherded his family back in. Someone spied Queen Mary in a courtyard below. "We want Queen Mary!" the crowd shouted, but the Queen Mother ignored them.* A minute later the crowd's attention was directed elsewhere. In an upper story window they caught sight of a familiar face. Peering from behind a dressing-table mirror, Princess Elizabeth was taking one last peek at her future subjects before the great day was done. The crowd howled and the Princess waved. As the throngs finally dispersed, an elderly lady sighed with satisfaction. "Well," she said, "they certainly looked very glad to be home again, didn't they?"

Britain's testy Queen Mother sometimes pre fers to be ignored. Sometimes she doesn't. At Marlborough House, where she lives, an unwritten law has long required that visitors and staff acknowledge Queen Mary's majestic presence only when she chooses to recognize them first. Forewarned of this rule, a recent visitor there, on his way to the drawing room where he was sup posed to await her formal summons, met the Queen in the hall. He carefully averted his eyes and passed Her Majesty as though she were an invisible wraith. A few seconds later he felt a smart blow on the head. Forgetting her own rule for the moment, the Queen Mother had turned and bopped him with her cane.

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