"Ye—es," said Ben, also gazing at the rosy face and anxious eyes, "it can go as padding, I suppose."
"Oh! I am so glad," exclaimed Polly in glee, and dancing around the room. "And you won't be sorry, I know, Bensie; the audience will applaud that very thing I'm almost sure," which made Jasper sternly resolve something on the spot.
"Well, I shall never be through at this rate," he said, whirling over the manuscript to find his place. "Oh! here I am:
"'But cry you mercy, Sirs and ladies fair,
We aim but to be dragons,
Not mortals posing for effect.
We have a princess, to be sure'"?
"I should think we have," interrupted Clare with a glance over at the sofa. "Goodness me, she's fast asleep!"
"Poor little thing, she is tired to death," cried Polly remorsefully, while they all rushed over to the heap of lace and spangles, blissfully oblivious of "prologues."
"Do let her sleep through this piece of stupidity," said Jasper, bundling up another satin skirt that Mrs. Whitney had loaned for Polly to make a choice from. "There," putting it under the yellow head, "we'll call her when the dragons come on."
"Take care," cried Polly, with intercepting hand, "that's Auntie's lovely satin gown."
"Beg pardon," said Jasper, relinquishing it speedily. "Here's the sofa pillow, after all," dragging it from its temporary retirement under the theatrical debris. "Now let's get back to work; time is going fast." In a lowered voice:
"'We have a princess, to be sure,
A sweet and gracious Clotilde,
And a knight who does her homage,
But the rest of us
Are fishy, scaly,
Horny and altogether horrid,
And of very low degree
Who scarce know why we are upon the boards,
Except for your amusement,
So prithee'"?