"The slave hithers," said Laura jovially. "Here you are,
Rambunctious Rhoda from Rawhide Springs. Put 'em on."
She held out the overalls and jumper to the surprised new girl, who hesitated to take them.
"Hic jacet! The varlet refuses 'em!" hissed the red-haired girl.
"Goodness, Laura," whispered Nan. "That means 'here lies'—and nobody is telling stories."
"She's got her Latin and Shakesperean English most awfully mixed," giggled one of the other girls.
"And 'varlet' is the wrong gender, anyway," observed Bess.
"Silence!" commanded the Mistress of Ceremonies. "Silence in the ranks. Will she not don the costume?"
"Put 'em on!" commanded Laura again, shaking the painter's suit before the hesitating Western girl.
"She would better," said Amelia threateningly, "or I will call to your aid all these, my faithful followers, who have already been through the fiery trial."
"I don't want to go through any fiery trial," said Rhoda. "But if you insist, I'll put on that jacket and the pants."