Although this state of affairs was perfectly agreeable to the Amen Corner, it was not equally so to the Hornets. They had endured Winnie's removal as a piece of Madame's tyranny, had looked upon their Queen as a martyr, and had taken it for granted that we would make things extremely uncomfortable for her. They perceived, with astonishment, that we welcomed her heartily, and when it dawned upon them by degrees that Winnie was herself happy in the change, that she actually promenaded in the corridor with an arm lovingly twined about the waist of that odious Tib Smith, that the placard "Engaged" appeared as frequently on the outer door of the Amen Corner, and that Winnie's lessons and behavior improved so much that she was actually becoming a favorite with the teachers instead of their special torment—the indignation of the Hornets' Nest knew no bounds.
It showed itself in a practical joke originated by Cynthia, which might have been very amusing had it not been spiced with malice. I have spoken of our literary society and its projected entertainment. We were to have a series of tableaux; among others, Guinevere kneeling before an altar. Milly had been chosen to represent Guinevere on account of her beautiful hair, and because she spent her Saturdays and Sundays at home, and could have any costume arranged for herself. What was our disappointment, one Monday morning, to receive a note from Milly saying that she would not be able to take part in the entertainment, as her mother was going to Washington for a fortnight, and had decided that, as Milly looked pale, a little outing would do her good. This note was read to the literary society amid groans from the members. "We can't give up that tableau." "Adelaide, you take the part." "Can't; my hair is as black as a crow's wing. Tib's hair is lovely when it is down. It falls to her knees, and it has the sheen of molten gold. Girls, you must see it," and Adelaide proceeded to pull my braids apart; I protesting all the time that it was absurd to have a freckled Guinevere who was as homely as a hedge fence.
"Granted," replied Witch Winnie, "but nobody is going to see your face, child; you pose with your back to the audience, and as none of the girls know what regal hair you have, it will be such fun to have them guess who it is."
All of the other girls joined in persuading me, excepting one of the Hornets, who lifted her voice in favor of Cynthia Vaughn.
"But, girls, what am I to do for a costume?"
"Why didn't Milly think to send hers along?" said Adelaide. "We might write her."
"No, there's no time; she leaves this morning on the 'limited.'"
"If you would like, I'll take the part," Cynthia Vaughn suggested. "I've all that canton flannel ermine, and the ruff made out of the old window curtains, which I wore when I was Queen Elizabeth."
"That ruff would be a frightful anachronism," said Emma Jane Anton.
"And the ermine has served three times already. Thank you, we'll manage somehow," Witch Winnie asserted, confidently.