"See, Rock! See, Florence! Don't I look almost like a fairy?" she exclaimed, as she went into the library, where they both were sitting, each in a big chair.
"Oh! you do look sweet!" they said, and Dimple smiled and blushed at the praise, quite delighted with herself; but presently she looked at Florence a little gravely, and said:
"Florence, I feel so selfish. Do you care very much that I am to be a bridesmaid, and you not?"
"No, indeed, for I am to be bridesmaid when my sister is married, anyhow, and I would so much rather see it all than to be right in it."
So Dimple went up to take off her frock quite reassured.
"Mamma, what are you going to wear? White, too?" she asked.
"No, grey, with pink roses; and Mrs. Hardy will wear pale lavender and white roses."
"I thought brides always wore white."
"Not always," answered her mamma.
Long before half-past nine on the eventful morning Dimple stood ready, slippers, hat and all; her basket of flowers tied with white ribbons on the piano; and she felt very grand, indeed, when the carriage, with Rock in it, drove around for her. She had been up by daybreak, around to the church with flowers, upstairs to see that her bridesmaid toilet was all right, down into the kitchen to ask Sylvy for a peep at the wedding cake, which, black with fruit inside and white with frosting out, stood on the sideboard.