The Country Club was a handsome, spacious building, well away from the outskirts of the town. But the motors took them there swiftly, and soon they joined the large party of maskers in the Club ballroom. There were perhaps a hundred people there, and Patty felt there was little risk of being recognised. She did not know many of the Fern Falls people, anyway, and they would scarcely know her in her disguise. "Of course the first dance is mine," said Philip, as the music began. But after that dance was over, Patty was besieged by would-be partners. Historical characters, foreigners, clowns, monks, and knights in armour begged for dances with Little Bo-Peep. Patty was so engrossed in looking at these wonderful personages, that she scarcely noticed who put their names on her card. And in truth it made little difference, as none of the men put their real names, and she hadn't the slightest idea who they were. "Help yourselves," she said, laughing, "to the dances before supper; but don't touch the other side of the card. After the masks are off, I shall have some say, myself, as to my partners!" So the first half of the dances were variously signed for by Columbus and Aladdin and Brother Sebastian and Jack Pudding and other such names. During each dance Patty would try to discover the identity of her partner, but as she only succeeded in one or two cases, she gave it up. "For it doesn't make the slightest difference who you are," she said, as she danced with Brother Sebastian, who was garbed as a Friar of Orders Grey. "No," he returned, in a hollow, sepulchral voice, which he seemed to think suited to his monk's attire. "And you needn't try to disguise your voice so desperately," said Patty, laughing gaily, "for probably I don't know you, anyhow. And you don't know me, do you?" "I don't know your name," said the monk, still in hollow tones, "but I know you're a dancer from the professional stage, and not just a young woman in private life." "Good gracious!" cried Patty, horrified. "I'm nothing of the sort! I'm a simple-minded little country girl, and I dance because I can't help it. I love to dance, but I must say that a monk's robe on one's partner is a little troublesome. I think all the time I'm going to trip on it." "Oh, all right; I'll fix that," said the monk, and he held up the skirts of his long robe until they cleared the floor. "That's better," said Patty, "but it does spoil the picturesqueness of your costume. Let's promenade for a while, and then you can let your robes drag in proper monkian fashion." "Much obliged to you for not saying monkey fashion! I certainly do feel foolish, dressed up in this rig." "Why, you ought not to, in that plain gown. Just look at the things some of the men have on!" "I know it. Look at that court jester; he must feel a fool!" "But that's his part," laughed Patty; "rather clever, I think, to dress as a fool, and then if you feel like a fool, you're right in your part."