"Well, young lady—that I ever set eyes on—can't you comprehend that it is a ball we are speaking of?"
"A ball?" says I; "then what did you call it a Liederkranz for?"
"The Liederkranz ball. It's a German word."
"But I don't speak Dutch. How should I, not being an old settler of York Island," says I.
"Well, never mind that. The Liederkranz is a masked ball."
"A masked ball! Now what do you mean? I've heard of masked batteries, but they went out with the war."
"There it is again; you won't take time to understand," says Cousin E. E., a-lifting both her hands in the air. "This is a ball where people go in character."
I arose at once, burning with indignation.
"Cousin E. E.," says I, "do you mean to insult me? What have you seen in my conduct to lead you into supposing that I would go to any ball that was out of character?"
"Do sit down," says she.