“While we’re doing that, won’t you tell us a little more about the play, Miss Whittier?” said Dorothy Bates. “The plot, if it can be called a plot, is simple. One girl must represent the Goddess of Honor. She will stand on a pedestal, and hear the claims of the various celebrities. She will wear a classic costume, and will have a chaplet of bay to bestow on the successful one. She will be attended by four allegorical figures, representing War and Peace, Art and Wisdom. These girls will also wear classic draperies, and look as much as possible like statues. The other characters will, of course, wear costumes suited to their personalities.” “And is there any dialogue?” asked another pupil. “Yes; each character makes a short speech, setting forth her claims to honor and glory. This seems a little ostentatious,” Miss Whittier smiled, “but that is the way the play is written. Then, finally, the Goddess awards the chaplet to the one she deems most worthy.” “And which one is that?” asked Betty. “I won’t tell that yet,” said Miss Whittier, smiling; “I’ll not divulge that secret until you have all chosen your parts, for, naturally, you would each desire the one who will receive this crown.” This seemed sensible to Betty, and she began to consider what part she would like to take. Miss Whittier had a full list of names written on the blackboard, that all might see them, and Betty studied them with care. The four allegorical figures did not appeal to her at all. It would be no fun to stand, perhaps on a pedestal, draped about with Greek togas, or whatever statues wore, and not even a red sash by way of coloring! The Goddess of Honor was, of course, the most desirable, and Betty almost decided to write that against her name. But, she reflected, it was doubtful if Miss Whittier would think her well suited for that. A goddess ought to be tall and fair and statuesque, and Betty was anything but that. Her round Irish face and somewhat tilted nose and rosy cheeks were far from classic in type. And, anyhow, probably some one else would choose that one who would be much better fitted for the part. So Betty carefully considered the other names. Pocahontas and Queen Elizabeth both attracted her. She did not look particularly like an Indian maiden, nor yet like an English queen, but as she glanced around the room, she saw no one that looked more so than she; at least, no one looked like Queen Elizabeth, though some of the slim, straight-haired girls might make a better Indian. But, as she gazed, Betty decided that looks would not have much to do with it. The girls must depend on their costumes to represent the character they assumed. And so Betty hesitated between the two she liked.