"A thousand rubbles," answered Marjorie; "and unless the sum is forthcoming ere set of sun, the Princess shall be,--shall be----" Marjorie hesitated. It seemed dreadful to pronounce fate, even in make-believe, on that dimpled, smiling bit of humanity. "Shall be imprisoned," suggested Gladys. "Yes, imprisoned in an enchanted castle." Totty crowed and gurgled, as if greatly pleased with her destiny, and the girls wheeled her along the path to the gate. "She reminds me so much of Dotty Curtis," said Midget. "Let's go down that way and see if Dotty's out. Mother said we could go two blocks." On they went, crossing the curbs with great care, and soon turned in at Mrs. Curtis' house. Sure enough, there was the nurse wheeling the Curtis baby around the drive. "Good-morning," said Marjorie, who was friendly with Nurse Lisa. "How is Dotty to-day?" "She's well, Miss Marjorie," replied Lisa; "and who's the fine child with you?" "This is little Totty Harrison; and I think she looks like Dot. Let's compare them." The veils were taken off the two children, and sure enough they did look somewhat alike. "They're both darlings," said Marjorie, as she gently replaced Totty's veil. "Lisa, won't you let Gladys wheel Dotty for awhile, and I'll wheel Totty. That would be fun." "I'll willingly leave her with you for a bit, Miss Gladys. I've some work to do in the house, and if you'll keep baby for a few minutes it would be a great thing for me. Mrs. Curtis is out, but I know she'd trust you with the child, if the other lady does. But don't go off the place." "No," said Marjorie; "this place is so big there's room enough anyway. I promise you we won't go outside the gates, Lisa." "Isn't this fun?" cried Marjorie, as Lisa went away. "Now, we have two kidnapped princesses. Or shall we play house with them?" "No, let's have them princesses. Now you can name yours Petronella, and I'll name mine Ermyntrude." This momentous question settled, the game went on. They pretended that the princesses were anxious to get back to their respective homes, and that they must resort to bribery and strategy to keep them contented. "Nay, nay, Princess Petronella," Marjorie would say; "weep not for friends and family. I will take you to a far better place, where flowers grow and birds sing and--and----" "And gold-fish swim," went on Gladys, who always followed Marjorie's lead, "and roosters crow--cock-a-doodle-doo!!" This climax, accompanied as it was by Gladys' flapping her arms and prancing about, greatly delighted both princesses, and they laughed and clamored for more. "Aren't they dears!" exclaimed Marjorie, as she looked at the two pretty babies. "Methinks no ransom is forthcoming. Must we resort to our dire and dreadful doom?" "Aye, aye!" said Gladys. "To the enchanted castle with the fatal victims." So long as the girls used tragic-sounding words they didn't always care whether they made sense or not.