A door stood somewhat ajar; it opened into a most attractive bathroom, copiously provided with towels, soap, mirrors, and all such convenient comforts, with indeed our toothbrushes and combs, our notebooks, and thank goodness, our watches--but no clothes. Then we made a search of the big room again and found a large airy closet, holding plenty of clothing, but not ours. “A council of war!” demanded Terry. “Come on back to bed--the bed’s all right anyhow. Now then, my scientific friend, let us consider our case dispassionately.” He meant me, but Jeff seemed most impressed. “They haven’t hurt us in the least!” he said. “They could have killed us--or--or anything--and I never felt better in my life.” “That argues that they are all women,” I suggested, “and highly civilized. You know you hit one in the last scrimmage--I heard her sing out--and we kicked awfully.” Terry was grinning at us. “So you realize what these ladies have done to us?” he pleasantly inquired. “They have taken away all our possessions, all our clothes--every stitch. We have been stripped and washed and put to bed like so many yearling babies--by these highly civilized women.” Jeff actually blushed. He had a poetic imagination. Terry had imagination enough, of a different kind. So had I, also different. I always flattered myself I had the scientific imagination, which, incidentally, I considered the highest sort. One has a right to a certain amount of egotism if founded on fact--and kept to one’s self--I think. “No use kicking, boys,” I said. “They’ve got us, and apparently they’re perfectly harmless. It remains for us to cook up some plan of escape like any other bottled heroes. Meanwhile we’ve got to put on these clothes--Hobson’s choice.” The garments were simple in the extreme, and absolutely comfortable, physically, though of course we all felt like supes in the theater. There was a one-piece cotton undergarment, thin and soft, that reached over the knees and shoulders, something like the one-piece pajamas some fellows wear, and a kind of half-hose, that came up to just under the knee and stayed there--had elastic tops of their own, and covered the edges of the first. Then there was a thicker variety of union suit, a lot of them in the closet, of varying weights and somewhat sturdier material--evidently they would do at a pinch with nothing further. Then there were tunics, knee-length, and some long robes. Needless to say, we took tunics. We bathed and dressed quite cheerfully. “Not half bad,” said Terry, surveying himself in a long mirror. His hair was somewhat longer than when we left the last barber, and the hats provided were much like those seen on the prince in the fairy tale, lacking the plume. The costume was similar to that which we had seen on all the women, though some of them, those working in the fields, glimpsed by our glasses when we first flew over, wore only the first two.