"You've been reading too many silly books," scolded Bobby. "Anyway, Libbie, you're too fat to look nice in a veil. Better get thin before you're old enough to be married, or else you'll have to wear a traveling suit."
Libbie eyed her scornfully and continued to parade up and down in her draperies.
"Betty would look pretty in a veil," said Louise suddenly. "Come on, girls, let's stage a wedding. Libbie won't sleep all night if she doesn't have some romantic outlet. I'll be the father."
She seized a pillow and stuffed it in the front of her dressing gown so that it made a very respectable corpulency.
"I'll be the mother!" Esther began to pin up her hair, a dignity to which she secretly aspired.
"I'm your bridesmaid, Libbie," announced Betty, catching up the bride's train and beginning to hum the wedding march under her breath.
"If you _will_ be silly idiots, I'm the minister," said Bobby, mounting the bed and leaning over the foot rail as if it were a pulpit.
The bride stopped short, nearly tripping up the devoted bridesmaid.
"I don't think you should make fun of ministers," she said, looking disapprovingly at her cousin. "It's almost wicked."
"I'd like to know how it's any more wicked than to pretend a wedding," retorted Bobby wrathfully. "Weddings are very solemn, sacred, serious affairs. Mother always cries when she goes to one."