Somehow Beth found herself at the head of the central one of the small tables which Lady Harrowdene’s genii had swiftly and noiselessly set in place and covered with good things. To her table they bore a huge valentine cake, decorated with all sorts of icing designs in the valentine style, ringed around with eleven candles burning steadily. Beth had to rise and cut the cake. She was so embarrassed that she could only make the first incision, from which custom forbade her being excused. Aunt Alida rescued her after that and cut the birthday cake into slices herself. “You are to sit still, Beth, please,” Lady Harrowdene said, signaling to the servants when the supper was over. Just as swiftly and silently as they had brought them, the men bore the tables away, all but the centre one on which Beth’s birthday cake stood and at which Beth herself was left, a solitary island entirely surrounded by guests and shyness. The orchestra, which had been playing beautiful soft music during the supper, played a waltz. The butterflies once more spread their wings, figuratively speaking, and danced. As they whirled around and past Beth each butterfly dropped into the lap of this one little motionless butterfly a package, tied with gay ribbons, decked with birthday cards and flowers, till the small table was heaped and the small recipient was nearly overcome. “‘Please don’t open till Christmas,’ not till you get home at any rate!” cried Alys. “Come and dance, Bethie, for it will soon be over and this music is heavenly.” It was; Beth thought so. Aunt Rebecca would have been surprised if she could have seen her little grandniece dancing, for Beth had acquired the accomplishment only this winter and was fond of it with all her musical heart. “The clock strikes twelve, Cinderella!” warned Lady Harrowdene. “Dear guests, my party is over. I’m sorry and I hope you are.” “It was the nicest party we ever had, Lady Harrowdene,” declared one of the Tanager girls. “If you have parties like this in England I’m going to live there as soon as I come of age.” Beth came home excited, tired, but in a dream of bliss. The party had seemed like a dream, but the proof of its reality was the snow of white packages completely covering the floor of the tonneau of the car. “Well, sir,” exclaimed Dirk, speaking out of a long silence on the way home, “she’s a countess that counts!” And Natalie, Alys and Beth enthusiastically agreed. CHAPTER XVI THE SHROVE NIGHT MASQUE “Shall you be ready to meet Shakespeare when he comes here on Tuesday night, Beth?” asked Mr. Cortlandt unexpectedly, emerging from behind his morning paper. “It is the custom of some people to ‘get up’ handy quotations from an author before meeting him, to have them ready to use; it’s supposed to please him, but all real authors hate it. If you like I’ll rehearse the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet and we’ll act it for Mr. Shakespeare when he comes.”