“Look at that!” she exclaimed tragically, as she held out her paper toward the girls. “‘Grace Darling!’” read Dorothy. “Oh, Betty, you don’t like your part, do you?” “Like it!” cried Betty; “read what the costume is!” “‘Simple sailor suit,’” read Dorothy, “‘of dark-blue flannel, small yachting-cap, or no hat at all. Carry an oar.’ Why, that’s a sweet little costume, Betty.” “Sweet little nothing!” cried Betty, stormily. “I don’t want to wear a common, every-day sailor suit! And carry an oar! Oh!” “What did you want?” asked Jeanette. “I wanted to be a goddess,” said Betty, honestly. “But I didn’t write that, ’cause I was ’most sure Miss Whittier would rather have a yellow-haired girl for that. So I chose Queen Elizabeth, but I’d have been satisfied with Pocahontas. But Grace Darling! Oh, I think it’s mean!” “Why, Grace Darling was very noble and heroic,” said Jeanette. “Oh, of course. Grace Darling herself was wonderful. I just adore her! But I want to wear a pretty costume in the play—a grand one, you know, like a queen or something.” “Yes, I know,” said Dorothy, sympathetically, for she well knew Betty’s love of bright colors and gay “dressing up.” “I think it’s a shame, too. Maybe Miss Whittier will let you change with me.” “No, she said we positively couldn’t change our parts. And, anyhow, I wouldn’t take yours if it’s nicer than mine. What is yours, Dot?” “Queen Elizabeth,” said Dorothy, feeling as mean as if she had been caught in a wrong action. Betty had to smile at Dorothy’s contrite tone. “Well,” she said, “I’d rather you’d have it than any one else. Mother’ll lend you her necklace, I know. What’s yours, Jeanette?” “Joan of Arc, and just the one I wanted.” “That’s nice,” said Betty. “I’m glad you got it. But, oh, girls, I wish I had a pretty one. If I’d only had Priscilla or Cleopatra, or anybody that wore pretty things! But ‘a simple sailor suit!’” “It’s too mean for anything!” declared Dorothy; “it takes the fun out of the whole thing.” “Oh, no; it isn’t so bad as that,” said Betty, smiling through her gathering tears. “I s’pose I’ll get over my disappointment. And I’m silly to care so much, anyhow. What’s Constance?” “She’s the Goddess,” said Dorothy, reluctantly, for this seemed to add another straw to Betty’s burden of woe. “I’m glad of it,” said Betty, generously. “She’ll be a lovely goddess, she’s so pretty and graceful. Well, let me help you girls with your costumes, as long as I haven’t any of my own to fuss over. I can get an inexpensive, ‘simple sailor suit’ ready-made.” Betty turned in at her own gate, and after their good-bys the other girls went on. “It’s just horrid,” said Dorothy; “I know how bad Betty feels about it, and I’m going to ask Miss Whittier to change it somehow.” “She won’t do it,” said Jeanette; “I wish she would, but I know she’ll say if she changes one she’ll have to change others, and it’ll be a regular mix-up.”