“Jemima,” Betty gasped, when they had been dismissed and she, Lois and Polly were in the latter’s
room. “Who under the sun can we go as?”
“It is hard, isn’t it?” Lois said, “but you had a splendid costume last year; didn’t you go as the Last of the Mohicans?”
“Yes, I have my Indian suit.”
“Why don’t you go as Pocahontas?” Polly suggested. “Your hair isn’t black, but it would look great in two heavy braids.”
“That’s just what I’ll do. I’ll go grab that suit before any of the others get it.” And Betty dashed for the attic.
Lois jumped as the door slammed. “Isn’t that just like Bet, she ought to go as a little whirlwind. Poll, what can we go as?”
“I don’t know, let’s ask Miss Porter.”
“Do you suppose we can find her?”
“Yes, she’s probably in her room.”