"Why it is the crest of her helmet, Daisy! Fortitude must have something strong about her, somewhere, and I suppose her head is as good a place as any. We'll make a helmet for you. And I will make Dolce lie down at your feet for the lion."
"You couldn't, Preston."
"I could make him do anything." Dolce was Preston's dog; a great shaggy
St. Bernard.
"Well!—" said Daisy with a half sigh.
"I think you'll make a beautiful Fortitude. Now let us see what next.
That is for one."
"How many pictures do you want?" said Daisy.
"O a good many. Plenty, or it wouldn't be worth taking all the trouble, and shutting the people up in a dark room. 'Alfred in the neat-herd's cottage'—getting a scolding for his burnt cakes. How splendid that would be if we could get Dr. Sandford to be Alfred!"
"Who would be that scolding old woman?"
"No matter, because we can't get Dr. Sandford. We are not to have grown folks at all. It is a pity Ransom is not here. We shall have to get Alexander Fish—or Hamilton! Hamilton will do. He's a good looking fellow."
"You would do a great deal better," said Daisy. "And Alexander would not do at all. He has not a bit the look of a king about him."