IT was the season of the year
When people, dressed in fancy gear,
From every quarter hurried down
And filled the largest halls in town;
And there to flute and fiddle sweet
Went through their sets with lively feet.
The Brownies were not slow to note
That fun indeed was now afloat;
And ere the season passed away,
Of longest night and shortest day,
They looked about to find a hall
Where they could hold their fancy ball.
Said one: "A room can soon be found
Where all the band can troop around;
But want of costumes, much I fear,
Will bar our pleasure all the year."
Another said: "One moment wait!
My eyes have not been shut of late,—
Don't show a weak and hopeless mind
Because your knowledge is confined,—
For I'm prepared to take the band
To costumes, ready to the hand,
Of every pattern, new or old:
The kingly robes, with chains of gold,
The cloak and plume of belted knight,
The pilgrim's hat and stockings white,
The dresses for the ladies fair,
The gems and artificial hair,
The soldier-suits in blue and red,
The turban for the Tartar's head,
All can be found where I will lead,
If friends are willing to proceed."
Those knowing best the Brownie way
Will know there was no long delay,
Ere to the town he made a break
With all the Brownies in his wake.
It mattered not that roads were long,
That hills were high or winds were strong;
Soon robes were found on peg and shelf,
And each one chose to suit himself.
The costumes, though a world too wide,
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And long enough a pair to hide,
Were gathered in with skill and care,
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