And that’s just what Miss Whittier did say, though in different words. “No, my dear,” she said kindly, but decidedly, when Dorothy told her about it. “I’m sorry Betty is disappointed, but several of the girls have already asked to change their parts, and I’ve been obliged to say ‘no’ to each; so of course I can’t make an exception in favor of Betty.” This settled it, and Betty accepted her fate, outwardly with a good grace, but secretly with a rebellious heart. “It’s such a mistake,” she said to her mother, “for girls like Kate Alden and May Jennings would _like_ to have only simple costumes to prepare. And they have to rig up as Martha Washington and Mary, Queen of Scots! Either of them would rather have Grace Darling, and only have to get a ‘simple sailor suit!’” “It _is_ too bad, Betty dear,” said her mother; “I’m just as sorry as I can be. But I can’t see any help for it, so we must submit.” “Yes; I know it, and I’m not going to growl about it any more. But it does make me mad!” Betty kicked a footstool, as if to relieve her overburdened feelings, and then laughed at herself for her foolishness. She learned her lines carefully, determined to do her part as well as she could, if her dress was plain and inconspicuous. Her speech was full of brave and noble thoughts, and Betty practised it often, and observed conscientiously her teacher’s instructions as to inflections and gestures. It was easy for Betty to learn by heart; so easy, indeed, that she unconsciously learned most of the other girls’ speeches by merely hearing them at rehearsals. Often she would amuse her mother and Jack by breaking forth into some of the stilted lines of the play. “I am Pocahontas,” she would say, striking an attitude of what she considered Indian effect; “I claim the prize, Goddess, because I, in years that are past, rendered a service——” “There, there, that will do, Betty!” Jack would cry. “You are a born actress, I know, but I’m studying my English history now, and Pocahontas doesn’t belong with the Saxon kings.” “Oh, English history!” said Betty, mischievously. Then, stalking grandly up to him, she held an umbrella for a scepter, and declaimed: “Goddess of Honor! You see before you Elizabeth, the Virgin Queen. A noble monarch, not alone in power, but in majestic traits that won for her the loyalty and adoration of her loved and loving subjects. A queen who——” “Off with her head!” cried Jack, throwing a sofa-pillow at Betty, who promptly threw it back at him, and then ran laughing from the room.