Alma was talking. “Honestly girls,” she insisted, “he was a real prince, dressed in black velvet and a beautiful jaunty cap——”
“Alma! Alma!” shouted her companions in derision.
“Where did you see the fairies? Just imagine in broad daylight in the woodlands——” teased one.
“Then, I shall not tell you anything more about it,” desisted the abused one. “As if I wasn’t surprised. Why, I was so dumfounded I could not ask him if he saw you, and I was miles behind the crowd.”
“Now girls, let Alma tell,” chirped Doro, in her lispy voice. “Go ahead, Al. I believe you saw Prince Charming.”
“Was he old enough to ride a horse?” asked Laddie, christened Eulalia. She was defying her dentist on a piece of fudge two days old.
“Honestly, girls,” began Alma again, “I never saw a boy so beautiful. Light curls——”
“Oh!!!” came a chorus that stopped the narrator and sent her pouting over to the bed couch, where she pouted still more.
“Then, all right, I am absolutely through,” she declared quite as if she meant it.
“Now just see what you have done,” mourned Treble. She was so tall the girls always considered her in that clef. “Don’t you mind them, Allie. I know perfectly well there are even flying cupids in the big woodlands, and I fully expect to bring a couple home to lunch——”