Of course Old Ocean's Float led the parade. Though not very realistic, it was a theatrical representation of the sea, and the great billows, made of green muslin crested with cotton batting and stretched over somewhat wabbly framework, tossed and swayed almost like the Atlantic breakers. At the back end of the float was a great canopied throne, on which sat the gold-crowned Neptune holding his firmly planted trident. Before him seemed to dance the Spirit of the Sea, for Patty, now in one pose and now in another, was outlined against the dark billows with charming effect. A bright electric light streaming from a point above the throne, illuminated both characters and threw into relief the shells and seaweed that decorated the sides of the float.
The other floats were equally well done,—some even better in artistic conception. Each received uproarious applause as it rolled slowly along the line of march. Hotels and cottages were all illuminated, and the whole population of Spring Beach was out admiring the Pageant.
"Aren't you tired, Patty?" asked Farnsworth, gently, as she changed her pose.
"Yes, I am," she confessed; "but it isn't the posing,—it's the jolting. I had no idea the ocean was so rickety!"
"Poor little girlie! I wish I could do something for you. But we have to go a couple of miles further yet. Can you stand it!"
"Yes; but I'd rather SIT it!"
"Do! Come and sit on this throne beside me. There's plenty of room."
"Oh, nonsense, I couldn't. What would the people think?"
"Do you want to KNOW what they'd think?" returned Farnsworth, promptly.
"They'd think that you were old Neptune's Queen, and that you meant to
sit beside him all the rest of your life. Let them think that,
Patty,—and, let it be true! Will you, my apple blossom girl?"
"No, Bill," said Patty, quietly, and changed her pose so that she did not face him. His words had startled her. Above the rumbling of the float, she had heard him clearly, though, of course, they could not be overheard by the laughing, chattering bystanders.