And sometimes to Maida’s grief, Rosie would reply roguishly: “O-nay I-way am-way oing-gay o-tay ook-hay ack-jay ith-way Arthur-way.” Billy Potter was finally invited to join the W.M.N.T.’s too. He never missed a meeting if he could possibly help it. “Why do you call Maida, ‘Petronilla’?” Dicky asked him curiously one day when Maida had run home for more paper. “Petronilla is the name of a little girl in a fairy-tale that I read when I was a little boy,” Billy answered. “And was she like Maida?” Arthur asked. “Very.” “How?” Rosie inquired. “Petronilla had a gold star set in her forehead by a fairy when she was a baby,” Billy explained. “It was a magic star. Nobody but fairies could see it but it was always there. Anybody who came within the light of Petronilla’s star, no matter how wicked or hopeless or unhappy he was, was made better and hopefuller and happier.” Nobody spoke for an instant. Then, “I guess Maida’s got the star all right,” Dicky said. Billy was very interested in the secret language. At first when they talked this gibberish before him, he listened mystified. But to their great surprise he never asked a question. They went right on talking as if he were not present. In an interval of silence, Billy said softly: “I-way onder-way if-way I-way ought-bay a-way uart-quay of-way ice-way-eam-cray, ese-thay ildren-chay ould-way eat-way it-way.” For a moment nobody could speak. Then a deafening, “es-yay!” was shouted at the top of four pairs of lungs. CHAPTER X: PLAY But although the W.M.N.T.’s worked very hard, you must not suppose that they left no time to play. Indeed, the weather was so fine that it was hard to stay in the house. The beautiful Indian summer had come and each new day dawned more perfect than the last. The trees had become so gorgeous that it was as if the streets were lined with burning torches. Whenever a breeze came, they seemed to flicker and flame and flare. Maida and Rosie used to shuffle along the gutters gathering pocketsful of glossy horse-chestnuts and handfuls of gorgeous leaves. Sometimes it seemed to Maida that she did not need to play, that there was fun enough in just being out-of-doors. But she did play a great deal for she was well enough to join in all the fun now and it seemed to her that she never could get enough of any one game. She would play house and paper-dolls and ring-games with the little children in the morning when the older ones were in school. She would play jackstones with the bigger girls in the afternoon. She would play running games with the crowd of girls and boys, of whom the W.M.N.T.’s were the leaders, towards night. Then sometimes she would grumble to Granny because the days were so short. Of all the games, Hoist-the-Sail was her favorite. She often served as captain on her side. But whether she called or awaited the cry, “Liberty poles are bending—hoist the sail!” a thrill ran through her that made her blood dance.