"How do you know that the hat has felt queer?" Valerie asked, smothering a laugh.
"I guess you'd feel queer if Patricia Levine had once taken hold of you," was the quick response, and Valerie ceased teasing.
"Dorothy knows a jolly sleighing song," said Nancy.
"Sing it! Sing it!"
"Oh, please sing it, Dorothy," clamored eager voices.
"Sing it with me, Nancy," Dorothy said. "Your alto makes it fine."
Their voices blended sweetly, and the melody floated out on the crisp air, so that a tall, dark man left a wood road, and stood listening as the sleigh sped past.
| "Over the ice and snow we fly, |
| Oh, but our steeds have wings! |
| And their hoofs keep time |
| With the glad bells chime, |
| For sleigh bells are merry things, |
| Never a thought or care have we, |
| Lessons are laid aside, |
| And we laugh and sing, |
| Adding mirth and din |
| To the joy of a winter's ride." |
"Oh, don't stop!" cried an eager voice. "Isn't there another verse?"
"There are two other verses," said Dorothy "but—I've forgotten them."