"Now then, I can get going," I said, and I began to cut out a white feather. "Yes, your ladyship, this is from the genuine bird on our own ostrich farm in the Fulham Road. Plucked while the ingenuous biped had its head in the sand. I shall put that round the brim," and I pinned it round. "What about a few roses?" said Myra, fingering the red paper. "The roses are going there on the right." I pinned them on. "And a humming-bird and some violets next to them.... I say, I've got a lot of paper over. What about a nice piece of cabbage ... there ... and a bunch of asparagus ... and some tomatoes and a seagull's wing on the left. The back still looks rather bare--let's have some poppies." "There's only three minutes more," said Myra, "and you haven't used all the paper yet." "I've got about one William Allan Richardson and a couple of canaries over," I said, after examining my stock. "Let's put it inside as lining. There, Myra, my dear, I'm proud of you. I always say that in a nice quiet hat nobody looks prettier than you." "Time!" said the President. Anxious matrons prowled round us. "We don't know any of the judges," I whispered. "This isn't fair." The matrons conferred with the President. He cleared his throat. "The first prize," he said, "goes to----" But I had swooned. . . . . . "Well," said Archie, "the Rabbits return to England with two cups won on the snowfields of Switzerland." "Nobody need know," said Myra, "_which_ winter-sport they were won at." "Unless I have 'Ski-ing, First Prize' engraved on mine," I said, "as I had rather intended." "Then I shall have 'Figure-Skating' on mine," said Dahlia. "Two cups," reflected Archie, "and Thomas engaged to three charming girls. I think it has been worth it, you know." A BAKER'S DOZEN A TRAGEDY IN LITTLE The great question of the day is, What will become of Sidney? Whenever I think of him now, the unbidden tear wells into my eye ... and wells down my cheek ... and wells on to my collar. My friends think I have a cold, and offer me lozenges; but it is Sidney who makes me weep. I fear that I am about to lose him. He came into my life in the following way. Some months ago I wanted to buy some silk stockings; not for myself, for I seldom wear them, but for a sister. The idea came suddenly to me that any woman with a brother and a birthday would simply love the one to give her silk stockings for the other. But, of course, they would have to be the right silk stockings--the fashionable shape for the year, the correct assortment of clocks, and so forth. Then as to material--could I be sure I was getting silk, and not silkette or something inferior? How maddening if, seeing that I was an unprotected man, they palmed off Jaeger on me! Clearly this was a case for outside assistance. So I called in Celia.