“Natalie doesn’t like to think of unpleasant things,” mocked Marie.
“Why should one, when there is so much that is beautiful and pleasant in the world?” demanded the olive-tinted one.
“Spoken like a true Camp Fire Girl!” exclaimed Alice. “Say, I do believe my middy-blouse is too small for me,” and she tried to get a view of her back in the glass, by twisting her neck around much after the manner of an ostrich.
“And they’re sure to shrink when they’re washed,” declared Marie.
“Don’t speak of it,” begged Marie. “Mine is tight under the arms, too.”
“Then let’s not wash them!” suggested Natalie with a brilliant thought. “There won’t be much chance in camp, anyhow.”
The four girls were at Marie’s house, where they seemed to assemble more often than any other place. The semi-Indian suits, consisting of khaki skirts and middy-blouses of the same material had just been received from the headquarters of the Camp Fire Girls, and our friends were trying them on with varying degrees of satisfaction. Truly the costumes, simple and serviceable as they were, seemed becoming in the extreme.
“We won’t be afraid of climbing over rocks, stumps and tree trunks with these boots,” went on Marie, as she inspected the shoes that had come with the outfits.
“And we can sit down on the grass without a qualm,” added Mabel. “Oh, I wish we could always dress like this.”
“Even at a dance?” asked Natalie.