"This ribbon?" asked Belle-bouche, with a gay smile.

"Yes; it is yours by right. It is the prettiest of all."

"I am glad you like it—I do."

"It would suit the mythologic Maia."

"Then it will not me."

"Yes, yes," sighed Jacques, in a whisper; "you are May incarnate—with its tender grace, and lovely freshness, and Arcadian beauty."

Belle-bouche smiled, and yet did not laugh at the oft repeated Arcadian simile.

"Methinks," said Jacques, with a species of melancholy grace, "these ribbons would suit your costume at the Arcadian festival, which you have honored me with the management of——"

"At Shadynook? Oh, yes! would they now?"

"I think so, madam. Imagine the crooks wreathed with these ribbons and with flowers—the shepherds would go mad with delight."