She laid back the lid and displayed its contents. In five minutes they were being shaken out of their folds and held up for inspection, big cloaks, fur-trimmed hoods, shirred with rattans, long veils, shawls, for this was the chest given over to materials which might attract moths.
"The beautiful things are in the trunks," said Prue. "We shall want the silks and embroidered muslins. Open this trunk, Wythie, please."
Oswyth opened it, and the girls drew a deep breath of joy over what even their first glimpse displayed.
"Oh, Frances, do you remember these?" whispered Rob, taking out a gown of 1776, and one of the Madison Era. "Do you remember the night we wore these?"
"Indeed I do, Rob," whispered Frances. "We must only remember now what a happy night that was, and be thankful that it was so—that special night."
"I think I'll wear this gown in the gavotte," said Rob, turning to the others. "That is if no one else wants it."
"Ah, yes!" said Bruce involuntarily, and Rob knew that he too remembered her wearing it in their impromptu frolic nearly two years ago.
"Would this do, Bartlemy?" asked Prue, holding up a pale blue brocade over a quilted satin petticoat.
"It's beautiful, but better for Wythie or Frances. You ought to wear this." And Bartlemy drew out a yellow satin, overshot with white, and sweeping open down the front to display a paler yellow petticoat. "Here is a cloth-of-gold effect for a golden-haired maiden."