The yellow crowns were vastly becoming, to Nan especially so, and Carter had nothing but approving looks to cast on his party of little girls as they mounted his flower-decked car, and they returned the compliment. "You certainly do look nice, Carter," said Jack.
"That white suit and yellow tie are very becoming to your style of beauty," said Nan, "but I wish you were a caballero."
"A caballero in an automobile? What an anachronism," said Carter. "I'd have to ride a horse and stow my car away in a garage, then where would you be?"
"Sure enough, where? Looking at you on your curvetting steed instead of being looked at with you. I take it all back, Carter; I don't wish you were a caballero at all."
"Well, my ladies, I'm perfectly satisfied with your appearance, individually and collectively. Those little yellow coronets are just too sweet," he added in a finicking voice.
"So is your tootsy-wootsy buttonhole bouquet," retorted Nan. "Come, let's get in. Dispose your sashes, children, so they will show a little bit. That's it. Now, I'll seat myself. See if I'm all right, Carter. Oh, I am so proud."
Indeed, so were they all. Never had there been a more excited set of children. To be part and parcel of a big parade, and such parade, was no common affair. It was a wonderful thing to share the plaudits of a great assemblage with gaily dressed ladies on coaches, with dashing caballeros and brilliantly bedecked wheelmen. Jack could scarcely sit still, and was constantly reprimanded by Mary Lee, who felt that the dignity of the party must be kept up by her.
Their elders had gone on ahead and were comfortably placed in the seats Mr. Pinckney had procured for them. The whole town was gay with flags and banners; festoons of flowers graced the fronts of the houses; arches of the same spanned the streets; all the shops and schools were closed; tiers of seats held expectant spectators; Spanish cavaliers, the descendants of the old residents of California, fell into line, their big sombreros garlanded with poppies or roses, their velvet jackets showing brass buttons, silken cords and white puffs at elbows, their white trousers displaying bright color beneath the slashes. They were the observed of all observers. Many of them wore sashes of flowers and the bridles of their horses were entwined with ribbons of the same shade. A caballero mounted on a high-stepping black horse whose decorations were yellow, made a fine showing, while the glossy white steed which followed contrasted well with the brilliant red geraniums which adorned his master, and the horse himself seemed proud of his scarlet ribbons as he tossed his flowing mane and arched his neck.
Those at the windows and balconies noticed the happy faced party of little girls in their yellow and white, but in that mass of gorgeousness their car was not specially unique, but they did not care, and scarcely one of them thought of the prize offered for the most attractive decoration. Then there were automobiles a mass of roses, coaches of violets, whose occupants wore gowns of the same hue, victorias of lilies, every conceivable conceit wrought into the moving pageant. Bicyclists in satin costumes of the picturesque period of Louis XV rode in solid line, their wheels adorned in harmony with their dress. Every sort of thing on wheels was pressed into service. Dignity, grotesqueness, grace, beauty, all were represented.
"There they are!" cried Jack as their car passed the hotel windows at which sat their party. "See, there's mother waving her handkerchief. She knows us and Mr. St. Nick has a flag. See him, he is getting red in the face with waving it so hard."