“Let’s all wear masks and caps and cut all sorts of capers. It will be just no end of fun,” cried Ethel Squire, a pretty, bright girl of fifteen who was always ready for a frolic.
“Splendid!” cried Toinette, “and Ethel has given me a fine idea for a name; let’s call it the C. C. C.”
“C. C. C.? What under the sun does that stand for?” asked Helen Burgess, a quiet, serene little body, and a general favorite with the other girls.
“Guess,” said Toinette.
“Cuffs and Collars Club,” said May Foster; “mine cause me more trouble than all the rest of my toilet, so they are never far from my thoughts.”
“Cake and Cackle Club,” said another.
“Cheese and Cider; a delicious combination when you’ve acquired a taste for them!” said Marie Taylor.
“Clandestine Carnivori,” was the last guess, which raised a shout.
“Good gracious! let me tell you quickly before you exhaust the dictionary,” laughed Toinette; “how will the Caps and Capers Club do?”
“Hurrah!” cried Ruth, “just the very thing. We’ll all wear our bath-robes and white caps and masks. I’ve loads of white crepe paper, which will be the very thing to make them of, so let’s sit down and make them right away. Come on, girls, help clear up this mess, and then I’ll find the paper. I can give the finishing touches to the closets and bureau drawers to-morrow.”