One of the three was a blue gauze ball gown, embroidered with patterns of thistles in tiny sparkling things that looked like diamonds; the second was pink tulle, with garlands of tiny roses; the third was a white linen, made as only Americans know how to make up linens; and the half was--well, I was not quite sure what it was at first, though I could see that it was pretty. It was pale green and there were two parts of it. The bigger of the two (it was not very big) was of soft silk, and extremely fluffy. It had a low-necked and short-sleeved bodice, and attached to that was a skirt--or something that would have been a skirt if it had had more time to grow. The second part was silk, too, but more difficult to describe. Perhaps I'd do best to say that it was like long stockings, only it was in one piece and evidently meant to fasten round the waist. "There's also a pair of sandals and a really sweet cap, deah," Sally explained. "Is it a fancy dress for a little girl?" I asked puzzled. "For a little girl about your size. Why, you funny child, it's your _bathing_ dress. I had to get it and all the other things ready made, for there wasn't time for anything more than having them altered to your measurement if they were to be ready for your birthday." "Oh, Sally, are they _all_ for me?" "Well, they're for nobody else. It's _your_ birthday." Of course I told her she was an angel, and so she was, quite an exceptional kind of an angel; and I kissed her, and was saying a great many things, when she stopped me. "So glad you like them, deah. But now we must be moving if we're to have our bath this morning. Louise can't leave Katherine, but we'll have one of the other maids come with our things. It's getting late." I felt frightfully. "It _is_ late, isn't it?" said I, hopefully, looking at my watch. "Perhaps it's too late to go this morning, after all." "Not a bit of it," said Sally. "Come along." "I'm not sure but that I'd better stop in, if Mr. Parker thinks Mrs. Stuyvesant-Knox would want me to," I floundered on. "She won't mind--not much, anyway, if we don't take you to the Casino without her," Sally tried to reassure me. But her eyes had begun to twinkle. "Don't you think she might? There are a lot of letters I ought----" "Now child, out with it. Don't you like the bathing dress?" "Oh, I _admire_ it immensely," I stammered. "It's like a--a picture. But--I can't see myself wearing it. That is, I can't bear to think of anyone else seeing me wear it." Sally went off into a fit of musical Southern laughter. "You poor baby. I forgot the shock it might be to you, if you're accustomed only to English bathing clothes. They certainly are the _limit_! Have you never been to Trouville or Ostend?" I shook my head, sad at having to seem ungrateful. But how could I help it?