“Mrs. Cortlandt sent me up to make sure everything was as it should be,” she said. “Frieda, have you that bit of a cap fastened strong? With Miss Beth’s hair flyin’ like the corn silk that bit of a fairy gossamer thing will get away from it like a cobweb on the grass of a May morning. Just a taste more of fold in that lace fish-u,” added Anna Mary bringing the lace closer around Beth’s round throat and pronouncing the syllables carefully. “What do you represent now, Miss Beth? It looks ancient.” “I’m Priscilla Alden,” said Beth proudly. “I’ll tell you,” she went on as Anna Mary knelt to sew a little tuck under the broad tuck of Beth’s skirt in a spot where it was too long. “Priscilla was so lovely that Captain Miles Standish loved her, but he didn’t dare say so, so he sent John Alden--he was a nice young man near Priscilla’s age--to ask her to marry him, but Priscilla saw John liked her himself, so she asked him why he didn’t ‘speak for yourself, John,’ and I suppose he did, because they were married.” “Now it hangs straight,” said Anna Mary, bending down to bite off her thread and coming up so purple in the face that Beth felt apologetic. “And that’s a foolish story, Miss Beth, if you don’t mind my sayin’ so. There’s no captain I’ve ever seen at home in Ireland--and I’ve seen plenty--would be sendin’ a boy to do his wooin’ for him. Let me look how Frieda’s got it in the back, that fish-u.” “It’s a lovely story, Anna Mary; I must have told it bad---- Oh, oh, oh, Natalie! Just look at Natalie!” screamed Beth, forgetting all about the Pilgrim lovers as Natalie appeared in the doorway, holding back the portière. All in crimson and black was Natalie, short skirt, high heeled shoes, pointed hat, black and crimson, with a crimson satin cloak floating from one shoulder. She was so brilliant of color, so radiantly handsome that the two maids shared Beth’s enthusiasm. “Sure they never hung such witches, Miss Natalie!” cried Anna Mary. Alys followed her sister. Beth and the maids were not able to appreciate the perfection of her copy of an old portrait in brocades and laces, still they saw that Alys’s gown was most beautiful. But Natalie’s glorious dark beauty in the witch costume of shining red silk swept everything before it. “We must hurry down, if you’re ready, little cousin,” said Natalie, and Beth found herself descending to the lower floor in the small elevator in the wonderful company of a great lady of the seventeenth century and such a witch as Anna Mary truly said had never been hung on Boston Common. Aunt Alida came to meet them. “You dear, satisfactory trio!” she cried. “If you’ll have as good a time as you look--dear me! That’s a queer sentence! However, I mean I’ll be delighted if you are as happy as you are nice to look at, little daughters and niece. Jim, Jim, do come here and see our Court Lady, our Priscilla--and our witch.”