Later he heard Treesa calling, “Here, Pansy, Pansy! Come here, Pollywog—come here again.” (Van’s nicknames among his friends were many and varied.)
He ran to her, capering recklessly, and this time there was less scuffling, and more laughter and barking. When he reappeared, he was the spirit of mystery itself. I doubt, had he been able to talk English, if he could have kept the secret into which he had been taken.
It was just the kind of a day the weather-man should always pick out for the Fourth of July. Sunny and breezy it was; not too hot, not too cold. The preparations went merrily on, and at a quarter to ten Betsy looked for Van, as the festivities were to begin at ten sharp.
But Van did not appear.
“I wonder where he is?” said Mrs. Johns. “I hope nothing has happened.”
“I’ll see if he is in the kitchen,” said Betsy, and just then the swinging door opened, and in came Van—Vanart the Prince, prancing proudly on his hind legs, dressed in the bluest of overalls with white polka dots and shoulder straps; a snowy shirt, one of Treesa’s collars, and a great red Windsor tie at his throat. His forepaws waved out of tiny cuffs; these, with the other two that appeared to be treading on air, his brown head and his stump of a tail sticking through a hole made for it in his overalls, were all the evidence to prove that he was still a dog.
He was as proud as a peacock, and as pleased with the effect of his costume as if he had thought it all up himself and made the clothes. There was no hint of the first struggle, when Treesa and Mary had tried the clothes on; nor of the second, when they taught him how to wear them and he had tolerated the garments for love of the makers. He wore his suit like a man, and looked delightfully self-conscious.
The applause was loud and long, quite enough to satisfy even the vain little Prince, who loved nothing better than being noticed. He felt that already he had made the hit of the day.
“The overalls and the shirt will be simply perfect for the haywagon,” laughed Mrs. Johns. “How did you ever think of it? The collar and the red tie are the finishing touches. He’ll be the observed of all observers.”
“And patriotic, too,” said Betsy. “Look at the colors—red, white and blue! He’s just grand!”