“Why, with live toys, something on the plan of the circus that you and Mary got up away back in sophomore year,” explained Eleanor. “I should think you might work it up beautifully.”
Madeline stared at her for a moment, her eyes half-closed. “Eleanor,” she declared at last, “you’re a genius. We could. I can fairly see my friends turning into toys. You and Betty and the rest of the class beauties are French dolls of course. Helen Adams would make a perfect jumping-jack—she naturally jerks along just like one.”
“And Bob can be a jack-in-the-box,” cried Betty eagerly, getting Madeline’s idea.
“Or a monkey that climbs a rope,” suggested Eleanor. “Don’t you think Babe would pop out of a box better?”
“And that fat Miss Austin will be just the thing for a top,” put in Madeline. “We can ask five cents for a turn at making her spin.” And Madeline twirled the purple plum vigorously, in joyous anticipation of taking a turn at Miss Austin.
“Then there could be a counter of stuffed animals,” suggested Eleanor, “with Emily Davis to show them off.”
“Easily,” agreed Madeline, “and a Noah’s ark, if we want it, and a Punch and Judy show. Oh, there’s no end to the things we can have! Let’s go over and tell Marie about it before dinner.”
“You and Betty go,” objected Eleanor. “I really haven’t time.”
“Nonsense,” said Madeline firmly. “It’s long after five now, and—Eleanor Watson, are you trying to crawl out of your responsibilities? It was you that thought of this affair, remember.”
“Please don’t try to drag me in,” begged Eleanor. “I’ll be a doll, if you like, or anything else that you can see me turning into. But Marie didn’t ask me to suggest, and she might feel embarrassed and obliged to ask me to be on the committee, and—please don’t try to drag me in, Madeline.”