One day Eva would decide on “Flower Girl,” another on “Erin” or “Rule, Britannia,” or some other character; and they were all the same, till Mother and the governess were nearly distracted.
“I don’t think I’ll go,” said Eileen one evening.
“Why?” they all asked in chorus.
“Because I don’t know what to be, and it’s too much trouble deciding. And, besides, it’s silly going in fancy dress, fixing up everything; and I’d rather go in a real pretty silk dress and nice silk stockings and pretty shoes and a fan, and all sorts of nice things; and I’m not rich enough for that, so I’ll stay at home.”
“Oh, nonsense!” cried Mollie. “It’s lovely to be going in fancy dress.”
“Oh, its all right for you—you’ve decided!”
“Well, why don’t you decide?”
“I can’t. Every day makes it harder, and I get more mixed; so I’ll just give the lot up and stay at home;” and she looked very disconsolate.
“What about a gipsy?” asked someone.
“Or a queen, or a mermaid, or—oh, lots of things!”