"Well! papa and mamma," said Rock, laughing, "will be back Sunday evening, and Monday we all go away."
"Don't talk about that part of it. I don't want to think of it."
Here Dimple's mamma called her, and she went upstairs. "Wait till I come back, Rock," she said, as she went out, "I want to talk some more."
"What do you want with me, mamma?" she asked as she entered her mamma's room.
"I want to try on your bridesmaid frock."
"Oh, mamma! Is that it?" she exclaimed, as her mamma lifted a soft white mull from the bed.
"Yes, and you are to wear a white hat and carry a basket of flowers. Isn't it odd that my little daughter should be bridesmaid for some one who was once her mamma's bridesmaid, and who used to play with her when she was a little girl?"
Dimple laughed at the idea, as she put her arms through the arm-holes, and said, "It is all so funny, mamma, that I can't straighten it out at all. It is like a fairy tale, and, O! mamma, I look like a fairy in this frock. Isn't it lovely? I wish I might go down and show it to Rock and Florence."
"Very well, you may, only be very careful not to catch it on anything."
"I will be, mamma," and she danced off to display her finery.