“Oh, Delight,” cried Marjorie. “You do look too perfectly lovely for anything! Doesn’t she, Mrs. Henderson?”
“Yes, indeed,” returned that lady, smiling; “but you all look so lovely, it’s hard to choose among you.”
Delight pushed her float, instead of drawing it, for it was the wicker baby-carriage that she had borrowed; but so transformed, that not a speck of wicker could be seen. It was twined and draped with green and white tarlatan; from its wicker hood, or top, depended filmy curtains, which were tied back to afford a view of the fairy scene inside. Here, in a sort of little bower, were dolls dressed as fairies, dancing round in a magic ring.
But, dainty as they were, no doll was so sweet as Delight, herself, with her golden hair flying, and her pretty face smiling at the fun of it all.
Fairy bells hung round the edges of the float, and jingled as it rolled along.
Delight stepped slowly, lest she run into the North Pole, whose brave explorer floundered on, guiding his snowshoes as best he might.
Then, after the Fairy Float, came Dorothy, the Flower Girl.
Her mother had fixed up a charming costume from one of Dorothy’s own pretty little frocks, by sewing tiny artificial roses all over it. A wreath of flowers on her head made her look almost like a May Queen.
Her float, though not so ingenious as some, was quite as pretty as any.
The old-fashioned flower-stand, of green wire, was filled with growing spring flowers in pots, and the pots were concealed by smilax and asparagus fern. The body and wheels of the float were covered entirely with pink and white paper roses, and the whole effect was of a mass of blossoms.