“Good for you, Jack!” cried Betty; “I’m pleased that you should have recognized what was meant for a queenly gait. I’m Queen Elizabeth of England.” “Pooh! You look more like the White Queen of Looking-Glass Land!” “Well, maybe I do now; but just you wait till I get my velvet train and jeweled crown,—and, oh, Mother, shall I have a scepter?” “Yes, I think that’s part of the costume.” “Oh, what fun!” and seizing Jack, Betty waltzed him about the room by way of expressing her glee. “Hi, Betty, go slower!” he exclaimed breathlessly; “queens dance stately minuets—they don’t dance break-downs!” “This queen does,” said Betty, calmly, but she let Jack go, on condition that he would help her hunt the library for books containing pictures of the Queen. Next day no mention was made of the entertainment until after lessons were over. It was nearly time for dismissal when Miss Whittier summoned the pupils to her in the assembly-room. She looked at them in a little perplexity, and then she smiled. “I did not foresee the result,” she said, “when I asked you young ladies to choose your parts for our little play. I thought that if two or even three should choose the same character we could readily arrange matters by a little friendly discussion. But, to my surprise, when the papers were looked over, this was the result: twelve girls have chosen the Goddess of Honor; nine have selected Pocahontas; seven want Queen Elizabeth, and the others are scattering. Now, as you can readily see, this state of affairs requires arbitration. So I am obliged to tell you that we must disregard your wishes, and assign the parts as we, the teachers, think best.” The girls laughed heartily when they realized how many of their number had asked for the most desirable part, that of Goddess of Honor, and they agreed that, after all, the fairest way was for the teachers to assign the parts, and then there could be no preference. “And so,” went on Miss Whittier, “I have prepared full directions for each of you. Here are the envelopes for you all, and in your envelope you will each find the name of the character you are to take, with full description of costume, and a copy of the lines you are to learn to recite in the play. And please remember the appointments are final and unalterable.” The envelopes were distributed, and each girl looked eagerly inside to see what her part might be. “You are dismissed,” said Miss Whittier. “There is no further occasion for secrecy, though I’m sure it will be better for the success of our entertainment not to tell your friends who will be in the audience much about it beforehand.” “What’s the matter, Betty?” said Dorothy, as, with Jeanette, they all started homeward. “You look as if you’d lost your last friend.” And truly Betty did look woebegone. Her cheeks were flushed with anger, her lips were drawn in a tight line, and her eyes already showed hints of flooding with tears.