"I think that's enough, Margaret. I don't feel quite so much like a dandelion seed as I did. Take my hand and let us skip down the room and back, just to try."
Down the room they skipped, hand in hand, and back again, jumping over the settee on the way and coming lightly down on the carpet, "Like a pair of soap-bubbles," as Frances put it.
"Just exactly," Margaret agreed. "I feel like you feel in a dream sometimes, when you just tap your foot on the floor or your fingers on the backs of the chairs and go floating about the room. How glad I am you asked for aëro-plane water, Frances, or we might never—Come in!"
Somebody had tapped at the door, and on Margaret's calling, "Come in," the two little maids appeared once more, courtesying politely, to inquire if the ladies were ready to put on their wreaths and slippers.
"Wreaths!" cried Margaret.
"Slippers!" cried Frances. "We didn't bring any wreaths and slippers."
At this, one of the little maids, whose name, they found, was Anita, smiled and nodded, and going to a cupboard in the wall which the children had not noticed before, she came back with two cardboard boxes, one of which she handed to each little girl.
"Are we to open them?" asked Margaret.
"If you please, Miss," replied Anita.