Before her mirror, Patty was putting the last touches to her Bo-Peep costume, and it must be confessed she was viewing the effect with admiration.

The gilt-framed glass gave back a lovely picture. The costume was one of the prettiest Patty had ever worn, and was exceedingly becoming. There was a short, quilted skirt of white satin and a panniered overdress of gay, flowered silk, caught up with blue bows. A little laced bodice and white chemisette completed the dress. Then there was a broad-leafed shepherdess hat, trimmed with flowers, and under this Patty’s gold curls were bunched up on either side and tied with blue ribbons. She wore high-heeled, buckled slippers, and carried a long, white crook, trimmed with blossoms and fluttering ribbons.

She pranced and turned in front of the mirror, decidedly satisfied with the whole effect. Then 285 she caught up her basket of flowers, which she carried because it added a pretty touch, and went downstairs.

It was a gay-looking party that waited for her in the hall. The two Misses Crosby had been there to dinner, and also Mr. Hoyt and Mr. Collins, and these, with the house party, were now all arrayed in their fancy dress. As they had agreed on Christmas Day, they were all in pairs, and as of course there could be no secrecy among them, they had not yet put on their masks.

Mona and Roger were very magnificent as Queen Elizabeth and Sir Walter Raleigh. Though Mona was not at all the type of the red-haired queen, she looked very handsome in the regal robes and great, flaring collar, while Roger was a veritable courtier in his picturesque garb.

Daisy and Mr. Collins were Pierrette and Pierrot. Their costumes were black and white, Frenchy-looking affairs, with tossing pompons and peaked caps.

The elder Miss Crosby and Jim Kenerley were Indians; and the warlike brave and the young Indian maiden looked as if they might have stepped out of the earliest pages of our country’s history. 286

The other Miss Crosby and Hal Ferris were Italian peasants in national costume.

Adèle and Mr. Hoyt were the most simply dressed of all, but in their plain Puritan garb they were effective and distinguished looking.

Perhaps, however, it was Philip Van Reypen whose costume received the greatest applause. He had copied a picture of Bobby Shafto that had been painted by a frivolous-minded artist, and his embroidered and belaced coat of light blue silk was remindful of the period of the gayest Louis. He wore white satin knee-breeches, white silk stockings, and black slippers with enormous buckles. In accordance with the song, there were large silver buckles at his knees; and his tri-corne hat was a very marvel of gold lace and feathers. Full lace ruffles flapped at his throat and wrists, and altogether he was an absolute dandy.

“You look like a valentine,” said Patty, “or a birthday cake.”

“You do look good enough to eat,” declared Adèle, as she took in the gorgeous costume.

“Yes, I flatter myself it’s the very last touch of Shaftoism,” said Philip, strutting about with an affected gait. “I say, Patty, you’re all kinds of a peach yourself.” 287

“Yes, this frock is all right,” said Patty, “but you simply take my breath away, Phil. I didn’t know anybody could look so beautiful! I wish men dressed that way nowadays.”

And then everybody admired everybody else until it was time to start. Then each put on a little mask, which they were to wear at the ball until supper-time. Patty’s was of light blue silk with a short fall of lace, and Philip’s was of black satin.

“I can’t wear this thing all the way there,” declared Patty, taking hers off again.

“Well, put it on just before you get there,” enjoined Adèle. “I’ve taken great care that no one should know a word about our costumes, and now if we are well masked they won’t be able to guess who we are. Even though they know we all came from our house, there are so many of us, they can’t tell us apart.”

The Country Club was a handsome, spacious building, well away from the outskirts of the town. But the motors took them there swiftly, and soon they joined the large party of maskers in the Club ballroom. There were perhaps a hundred people there, and Patty felt there was little risk of being recognised. She did not know many of the Fern Falls people, anyway, and 288 they would scarcely know her in her disguise.

“Of course the first dance is mine,” said Philip, as the music began.

But after that dance was over, Patty was besieged by would-be partners. Historical characters, foreigners, clowns, monks, and knights in armour begged for dances with Little Bo-Peep. Patty was so engrossed in looking at these wonderful personages, that she scarcely noticed who put their names on her card. And in truth it made little difference, as none of the men put their real names, and she hadn’t the slightest idea who they were.

“Help yourselves,” she said, laughing, “to the dances before supper; but don’t touch the other side of the card. After the masks are off, I shall have some say, myself, as to my partners!”

So the first half of the dances were variously signed for by Columbus and Aladdin and Brother Sebastian and Jack Pudding and other such names.

During each dance Patty would try to discover the identity of her partner, but as she only succeeded in one or two cases, she gave it up.

“For it doesn’t make the slightest difference who you are,” she said, as she danced with 289 Brother Sebastian, who was garbed as a Friar of Orders Grey.

“No,” he returned, in a hollow, sepulchral voice, which he seemed to think suited to his monk’s attire.

“And you needn’t try to disguise your voice so desperately,” said Patty, laughing gaily, “for probably I don’t know you, anyhow. And you don’t know me, do you?”

“I don’t know your name,” said the monk, still in hollow tones, “but I know you’re a dancer from the professional stage, and not just a young woman in private life.”

“Good gracious!” cried Patty, horrified. “I’m nothing of the sort! I’m a simple-minded little country girl, and I dance because I can’t help it. I love to dance, but I must say that a monk’s robe on one’s partner is a little troublesome. I think all the time I’m going to trip on it.”

“Oh, all right; I’ll fix that,” said the monk, and he held up the skirts of his long robe until they cleared the floor.

“That’s better,” said Patty, “but it does spoil the picturesqueness of your costume. Let’s promenade for a while, and then you can let your robes drag in proper monkian fashion.” 290

“Much obliged to you for not saying monkey fashion! I certainly do feel foolish, dressed up in this rig.”

“Why, you ought not to, in that plain gown. Just look at the things some of the men have on!”

“I know it. Look at that court jester; he must feel a fool!”

“But that’s his part,” laughed Patty; “rather clever, I think, to dress as a fool, and then if you feel like a fool, you’re right in your part.”

“I say, Miss Bo-Peep, you’re clever, aren’t you?”

“Not so very; but when talking to a learned monk, I try to be as wise as I can. Oh, look at that stunning big man,—who is he?”

“Looks like one of the patriarchs; but I guess he’s meant for King Lear. See the wreath of flowers on his white hair.”

“Did Lear wear flowers? I thought he wore a crown.”

“Tut! tut! Little Bo-Peep, you must brush up your Shakespeare. Don’t you know King Lear became a little troubled in his head, and adorned himself with a garland?”

“Well, he’s awfully picturesque,” said Patty, quite undisturbed by her ignorance of the play, 291 and looking admiringly at Lear’s magnificent court robes of velvet and ermine, and his long, flowing white hair and beard, and the garland of flowers that lay loosely on the glistening white wig and trailed down behind.

As they neared the picturesque figure, King Lear bowed low before Patty, and held out his hand for her dance card.

It was the rule of the ball not to speak, but to indicate invitations by gestures.

However, Patty had no reason to keep silent, as they were nearly all strangers, so she laughed, and spoke right out: “I’d gladly give you a dance, King Lear, but I haven’t one left.”

With another courtly bow, King Lear still seemed to insist on his wish, and he took up her card, which she had tied to her crook by a narrow ribbon. With surprise he saw the whole second page blank, and pointed to it with an accusing gesture.

“Ah, yes,” returned Patty, smiling, “but those are for my friends after I know them. We unmask at supper-time, and then I shall use some discrimination in bestowing my dances. If you want one of those you must ask me for it after supper.”

King Lear bowed submissively to Patty’s decree, 292 and was about to move away, when a sudden thought struck him. He picked up Patty’s card again, and indicated a space between the last dance and the supper.

“Oh, I know what you mean,” cried Patty. “You mean an ‘extra.’ But I don’t think they’ll have any. And, anyway, I never engage ............