Célie, who had come with the children, wrapped Beth up at last to go home. She was flushed and trembling with delight; her white slippers tapped the floor and she pranced to the music echoing in her brain. “Oh, I was always sorry for Cinderella when the clock struck twelve, but I never knew how awful it was for her! I don’t want to go home; I want to dance and dance and dance!” she cried. “You shall, but not all at once, Beth!” laughed Natalie. She found herself growing as fond of this enthusiastic little cousin as if she were Beth’s elder sister. Beth lay back in the corner of the carriage, then sat upright, and ended by tumbling over into Natalie’s lap as they drove home. The November air was sharp, with the hint of snow in it, but it was June and rosetime to Beth in that carriage. “I’m so happy, Natalie!” she cried. “It’s so lovely in New York, you can’t think unless you haven’t always been here! And it’s so nice to drive in this dear carriage and look so pretty, and have all those lovely other fairy girls dancing all around you! Isn’t it a queer thing that fairy stories aren’t half as nice, not near half as nice as what is true?” CHAPTER VI “THE ISLAND DAY” “If you don’t feel like going to church you may say so, Beth,” said Mr. Cortlandt at the breakfast table. “Oh, I do!” cried Beth. “I love to go to church. I like so very much to sing hymns. Sometimes I wish we could have hymns instead of a sermon, but Aunt Rebecca says that’s all wrong. Of course you don’t mind some sermons, but I do get crawly-creeps all over sometimes, when they last dreadfully long and are all about places and people with hard names. That kind always end up: ‘You will see from this, my brethren,’ but I don’t see a thing from it, usually.” Uncle Jim laughed his merry laugh and Beth laughed, too. “Everything is so different here, I suppose church won’t be the same, either,” she said. “Well, we’ll try it, if you’re so disposed, Miss Bristead,” said Uncle Jim. “Come up-stairs, Beth; we must get ready,” said Natalie, glancing at the clock as it chimed a happy little air, and then struck ten soft notes. “Must I change my dress?” asked Beth glancing downward at the soft blue cloth that was far prettier than her Sunday gown at home. “Dear me, yes!” said Alys. “Why, that’s a morning house dress. You must wear your suit, Beth; not the long coat which you’d have to wear over this.” “I wish we could have a Pilgrim party to church; I’d like to wear my Indian blanket there,” muttered Dirk wrathfully, with a presentiment of the discomfort of his coming starched collar.