At that a slim little person in a gay gypsy costume ran up, holding out her palm. “Cross my palm with a nickel, Titania, and I’ll tell you a fortune, for even the fairies don’t know everything!”
The gypsy’s voice was pitched low and rang a little hollow; but surely Betty knew that hand and arm, all covered with rings, beads and glittering gold or brass! “Oh, it’s you, Gypsy, isn’t it?” she whispered in the gypsy’s ear. “I might know that you would be a real gypsy tonight! You look darling!”
“Then I didn’t fool you a little bit! I hope I have better luck with other people. Was it my voice?”
“No, your hand, Gypsy. And did you know me right off?”
“No, honey, not till you said ‘Gypsy’ just now. Nobody else calls me that much—yet.”
“Yet is a good word, Kathryn. After tonight you may be called that more. Let’s go around together, then, the Gypsy Queen and the Fairy Queen, that is, I’m supposed to be it.”
Together Kathryn Allen and Betty Lee descended the stairs where their feet sank into a soft carpet. Below, on either side of the hall, large rooms stretched out, opening in to the hall with its pillars and draperies. “What a lovely home,” said Betty.
“Yes, isn’t it. I’ve never been here before. And aren’t the Hallowe’en decorations cute?”
Arm in arm the girls entered at the right, where a sort of receiving line seemed to be. And there was Marcella, without her mask, yet covered with a domino which concealed her costume. “Hello, girls,” she greeted them. “I’m sorry not to be able to speak your names, but I think you need no introduction for I can guess what you are without any trouble. Titania, greetings. By what name shall I call your friend?”
“Allow me to present the Gypsy Queen, Miss Waite,” said Betty with mock formality.