The girls tried them on, one at a time, and Miss Pringle pinned and basted and lengthened and shortened. She had made costumes all her life and no play at Miss Harding's seemed complete until she had been consulted.
"What are the other girls going to wear?" Daphne asked indifferently.
"Miss Grey will have a dear little shepherdess dress, and those two that are always together, I've mislaid their names in my mind—"
Sally laughed and Phyllis said quickly,
"Rosamond Dodd and Eleanor Schuyler."
"Yes, those are the ones. Well, they are going as Jack and Jill, and, oh, dearie me, I forgot. I know I've done my best for them all, and I must say they had more faith in my judgment than you young ladies had." An audible sniff ended the sentence.
"Oh, now, Miss Pringle," Sally protested, "we have unlimited faith in you. Didn't I prove it last year by letting you make a fairy out of me when I wanted to be a witch? This is a special joke we are having, that's why we want to be all alike."
"A very poor one, if you ask me,"—another sniff. "I can understand the Miss Pages, being as how they are twins, but—"
The girls were ready to leave, and Daphne interrupted her politely, but in her most approved drawl:
"We must all have our dominoes before noon, you know," she said. "As we are all going to dress at one house and go together, please be sure they are delivered on time."