"Well--yes. I don't see why you shouldn't. You may put down chocolates with your order for cakes and biscuits, if you like." The delegates made a cheerful exit from the study, and hurried to communicate their good tidings to the rest of the Form. "O Jubilate! We'll make a night of it!" commented Katherine. "The Bumble's turned into an absolute honey-bee!" Great were the preparations for the event. Costumes had to be contrived--a difficult matter with only the school theatrical box to draw upon--and ten coons to be turned out in uniform garb. The usual stock properties, such as the brigand's velvet jacket, the Admiral's cocked hat, or the hunting top-boots, were utterly useless, and the girls had to set their wits to work. They decided to wear their best white petticoats with white blouses, and to make hats out of stiff brown paper trimmed with rosettes of scarlet crinkled paper (obtainable at the village shop), using bands of the same scarlet for belts and ties. "Of course we'd rather have had real rush-hats and ribbons, but if you can't get them you can't, and there's an end of it, and you must just make up your mind to do without!" said Raymonde philosophically. "If I sing too hard I know I'll burst my waistband!" objected Morvyth, who always looked on the gloomy side of events. "Then don't sing too hard, and don't take any refreshments, if you've such an easily expanding figure!" snapped Raymonde. "We could stitch the crinkled paper over an ordinary belt, and then it wouldn't break through," suggested Valentine. "Scarlet's not my colour!" mourned Fauvette. "Never mind, Baby, you look nice in anything!" returned Aveline soothingly. "And your white petticoat's a perfect dream! I always said it was a shame to wear it under a dress." The entertainment was to take place in the evening, after preparation, and on the afternoon of the day in question the Fifth Form took sole and absolute possession of the barn, turning everybody else out, even those indignant enthusiasts who were at work at the wood-carving bench. "Mind, our tools haven't got to be touched, or we'll have something to say!" called out Daphne as she made an unwilling exit. "I shall put them all in the box!" returned Morvyth, slamming the door. The wood-carving bench had to serve as refreshment table, so it was cleared with scant ceremony, in spite of Daphne's protest; a clean cloth, borrowed from the cook, was spread upon it, and plates of cakes and biscuits, and packets of chocolates, were laid out as attractively as possible, with vases of flowers between. Raymonde, who was nothing if not inventive, suddenly evolved a new and enterprising scheme. "We must have a platform!" she decided. "Come along to the wood pile, and we'll get some packing-cases and put railway sleepers over them. It won't take us long!"