Kitty had arrived in the meantime, and though she had not read the play, she was quite ready to take her part, and skimming over the book hastily, announced:
“I’ll be Brutus; I think he’s the gayest one.”
“All right,” said King; “who’ll be Cæsar?”
“Let Rosy Posy be Cæsar,” said Marjorie. “He doesn’t do anything but get killed. So that will be easy for her.”
The baby was called down from the nursery, and expressed great willingness to be killed in the great cause.
As most of the Maynards’ games included a killing of some sort, they were all used to it, and it held no horrors for them.
King was to be Antony, and Marjorie, Cassius, but they were also to assume other parts when necessity arose.
It was, of course, only an initial performance, for the Maynards, when they liked a new game, kept it up day after day, until they tired of it. Much time was spent in adjusting their togas, and though all looked well in the flowing white drapery, they agreed that Rosy Posy, bundled up in a crib sheet, and with a gilt paper crown on her curly head, was easily the noblest Roman of them all.
The first part of the play went well, the actors snatching a glance now and then at the book, to get a high-sounding phrase to declaim.
Marjorie’s favorite was, “Help! ho! They murder Cæsar!” which she called out at intervals, long before it was time for the fatal thrust.