Little Gertrude wanted to have a party. Sarah and Julia Smith had had one, and Eliza Doane, and the twin Smith girls, and their little cousin Mary Vose; (parties were very delightful things, why shouldn't she have one?) Gertrude's mother was a sensible woman; she did not approve of children's parties; but she had found out that it was sometimes the cheapest way to teach her little daughter by experience, that her mother always knew best; so Miss Gertrude had leave to "have a party!"
How her tongue did run! "She should not ask Louisa Loft because she did not invite her; she should not ask Louisa Thompson, because she borrowed her 'Arabian Nights' and tore out one of the pictures; she should not ask Janie Jones, because she heard her call her new bonnet 'a perfect fright;' she should not ask George Sales, because he was such a glutton he would eat up all the bon-bons."
As to "supper," she would like oysters, of course; "escalloped oysters," with wine in them, and two pyramids of ice cream, one vanilla and one lemon; and some Charlotte Russe, and some Jersey biscuit, and all sorts of cakes, and sugar drops with "cordial" inside, and "mottoes" for the little beaux to give the little belles, &c., &c., &c.
Then her dress—that required a great deal of thought; her pink dress was too shabby to be thought of a moment; her blue one had neither tucks, nor flounces; (and who ever heard of a party dress with a plain skirt?) her buff one was not gay enough; in short, she had been seen in all those dresses—she ought to have a bran new one—a cherry silk, for instance, with swan's down round the neck and shoulders; that would be charming. Mary Scott told her, that her Philadelphia cousin had a dress like that, and looked lovely in it.
As to the time for the party she thought a week from that day would suit all the dress-makers—next Thursday week; then there were the notes of invitation—should they be written on plain or embossed paper? gilt-edged or not gilt-edged? These important questions puzzled Gertrude hugely.
Thursday came—and so did "the cherry dress and the swan's down." The dress-maker pinched Gertrude into it, and Gertrude, catching her breath between the hooks and eyes, said "it fitted beautifully;" the little satin slippers were also laced and rosetted to her mind, and her kid gloves properly ruche-d and bow-d and her hair curled by Mons. Frizzle, till she looked like his wife's little poodle dog "Apollo."
The bell began to ring! Gertrude ran once more to the glass before the door should open; it was all right, all but one curl on the left temple that had veered round a little too much to the north-east, and which had to be re-arranged.
In they came.
The two Misses Tarleton first, dressed in a cerulean blue, to set off their "lint locks" and fair complexions, with their two hands encased in white kids, crossed over their two sashes, and an embroidered pocket-handkerchief, starched very stiffly, between their little fingers. Close upon their satin slippers came Miss Jenny Judkins, whose father was "rich." Miss Jenny wore a black velvet waist trimmed profusely with black bugles, that sparkled under the chandelier enough to put your eyes out. Her skirt was pink satin trimmed with black lace flowers, and her hair was drawn back tightly from the roots at her forehead, and confined by tri-colored bows with long streamers like the pennants of a ship. Gertrude felt very much afraid that Miss Jenny would be voted "the belle."
Time would "give out" should I undertake to do justice to all these young ladies, beside I must not omit the young gentlemen. I am not quite sure that I have done right to keep them so long in "the gentleman's dressing room."