"I don't know. We'll talk about it again."
"Well, run along now," commanded the girl with a pretty air of superiority. "Why don't you join in with that milkmaid and Pocahontas? They are charming—both of them."
"I think I will just run along with—Rosebud," he answered, and he drew her arm more firmly within his own as they advanced toward the fairy tables set about all over the lawn, where, as the repast was served, masks were suddenly taken off, and the merrymakers were treated to many surprises.
"Oh!" cried the pretty milkmaid to Hiawatha. "How could you—Jack
Kimball?"
"Oh!" answered Jack, who had quite recovered from his little auto accident. "Oh! How could you—Bess? And you know perfectly well you did squeeze my hand—once."
"Oh, you horrid boy, I did not!"
"Well, you may now, if you like," and he extended it, but Bess drew back.
"And to think," cried the beautiful Psyche, who was Belle Robinson, "that I have actually been—"
"Letting a perfectly strange chap make love to you!" added Paul, helping her out, for Paul was Marc Anthony, and had spent considerable time with Belle.
"Oh!" cried the girl, recovering herself quickly. "Was that—making—love?" and she looked archly at him.