“Happy, Bethie?” asked Aunt Alida, detaining Beth for an instant as she passed her, moving with a light, floating step of her own to the exquisite music that recalled the guests. “Oh, happy, Aunt Alida! You think we’re all awake, don’t you? I’m so afraid I’ll wake up!” said Beth leaning her head against Aunt Alida’s pale gray gown. “What do you represent, auntie dearest? Are you anything historical or Thanksgivingy?” “It is only the children who represent something, Bethie. This isn’t my party, you know; I’m not a part of the party. But perhaps I represent Plymouth Rock--I’m nearly its color,” laughed Aunt Alida. Beth found herself one of the last to enter the ballroom after she had kissed Aunt Alida and hurried on. Dirk was looking for her, for they were to be partners in this merry witch chase. The children were paired and drawn up in a long line with beautiful Natalie at their head. Beth and Dirk slipped into their places in the line, the few stragglers were summoned, and all was ready. The orchestra burst forth in a strain of wild, sweet, strange music which Beth did not know was Hungarian, but which she dimly felt harmonized with Natalie’s crimson figure as she darted forward in a swinging, swift dance-step down the room. The others followed her at a signal, giving her a good start. Then Natalie “led them a dance” indeed! Up and down, over, across, straight, zigzagging, darting, turning, Natalie danced, and ever following her came the pretty line of boys and girls in their quaint costumes, following as if Natalie were a sort of Pied Piper and they were her victims, or as though she were a witch, indeed, who had bewitched them. Faster and faster the thrilling music rose, faster and faster Natalie led her winding pursuers, till at last, at a signal from Mrs. Cortlandt, the whole long train broke and spread out, encircling Natalie and taking her captive. “The witch! We’ve caught the witch! What shall we do with her?” cried Dirk who had long ago forgotten his dislike of costumes and had danced the game-dance with gusto. “Burn her! Hang her! Set her free! Hold her! Make her pay her forfeit!” cried various voices. They all turned to Mrs. Cortlandt for her verdict; she was to decide what should be the witch’s sentence. “If she can lead you in singing as she has in dancing she shall go free!” cried Natalie’s mother.