“Goodness!” exclaimed Mrs. Merrill; “we’ll have to fly for they’ll be out in front promptly at eleven.”
“Who’ll be?” asked Mary Jane.
“Wait and see,” teased Mrs. Merrill as she drippingly made her way up the steps and toward the dressing rooms.
Nobody took long to primp that time and at five minutes to eleven they were leaving the Casino.
“That’s plenty of time,” said Alice comfortably.
“Well, none too much,” said Mrs. Merrill doubtfully, “because I have to go up to the room and change my skirt.”
“Why, Mother,” said Alice, “that’s a nice one you have on.”
“Just so,” laughed Mrs. Merrill, “too nice. Let’s see, have you both your gingham bloomers on this morning—I forgot to notice. Yes, you have. Then you don’t need to change. You may wait for me here.” And she hurried off toward the elevator.
Soon she was back, wearing an old denim skirt that the girls didn’t remember ever seeing. They thought it an awfully queer looking thing but had no time to ask questions because she hurried them right out through the garden.
Through the garden, past the hedges and there—right by the leafy gate—all saddled and bridled and ready to go, stood three of the prettiest little ponies the girls had ever seen!