“Perhaps you'd like to have Mabel cut her hair off, so Merry can have that, too?” cried Susy, with whom hair was a tender point.
“Light hair isn't wanted, so Ju will have to give hers, or you'd better borrow Miss Bat's frisette,” added Mabel, with a scornful laugh.
“I just wish Miss Bat was here to give you girls a good shaking. Do let someone else have a chance at the glass, you peacock!” exclaimed Molly Loo, pushing Susy aside to arrange her own blue turban, out of which she plucked the pink pompon to give Merry.
“Don't quarrel about me. I shall do well enough, and the scarlet shawl will hide my ugly dress,” said Merry, from the corner, where she sat waiting for her turn at the mirror.
As she spoke of the shawl her eye went in search of it, and something that she saw in the other room put her own disappointment out of her head. Jill lay there all alone, rather tired with the lively chatter, and the effort it cost her not to repine at being shut out from the great delight of dressing up and acting.
Her eyes were closed, her net was off, and all the pretty black curls lay about her shoulders as one hand idly pulled them out, while the other rested on the red shawl, as if she loved its glowing color and soft texture. She was humming to herself the little song of the dove and the donjon, and something in the plaintive voice, the solitary figure, went straight to Merry's gentle heart.
“Poor Jilly can't have any of the fun,” was the first thought; then came a second, that made Merry start and smile, and in a minute whisper so that all but Jill could hear her, “Girls, I'm not going to be the Princess. But I've thought of a splendid one!”
“Who?” asked the rest, staring at one another, much surprised by this sudden announcement.
“Hush! Speak low, or you will spoil it all. Look in the Bird Room, and tell me if that isn't a prettier Princess than I could make?”
They all looked, but no one spoke, and Merry added, with sweet eagerness, “It is the only thing poor Jill can be, and it would make her so happy; Jack would like it, and it would please every one, I know. Perhaps she will never walk again, so we ought to be very good to her, poor dear.”