"It's Rhoda Chester!" gasped the girls incredulously, pinching their neighbours' arms in mingled excitement and admiration; and Rhoda Chester in truth it was, transformed into a glorified vision, far removed from the ordinary knickerbockered, pigtailed figure associated with the name. A white robe swept to the ground, the upper skirts necked over with rose-leaves of palest pink; in the right hand she bore a sceptre of roses, and a wreath of the same flowers crowned her head. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, and she bore herself with an erect, fearless mien which justified her companions' choice. When it had become necessary to apportion the _role_ of "Mistress June" the Committee had unanimously agreed that it would be safest in Rhoda's hands. She would not quail at the critical moment, mumble her words, nor forget her duties; but, on the contrary, would rise to the occasion, and find the audience a stimulus to her powers. It was her genius also which had invented the verses for recitation, so that there seemed a double reason for giving her the place of honour. So Rhoda had sent home an imperious dressmaking order, and here she was, dainty as loving care could make her, her flaxen mane streaming over her shoulders, the sceptre extended in welcome--as fair a personation of "Mistress June" as one need wish to see-- "Friends and companions, and our teachers dear We give you welcome to our kingdom here. Once more has kindly summer come to stay, And Mistress June resumes her wonted sway. We are your hosts, and to our leafy bowers We welcome you to spend the sunny hours; In happy revels we will all unite, In song, and dance, and ancient pastimes bright; All cares forgotten, labours laid aside, Hearts turned to joy, and glad eyes open wide To watch, as when bright fay and sportive faun Wove their gay dances on the woodland lawn. Alas! the stress of higher education Has vanished these, the poet's fond creation. But nature--not to be denied--has sent Yet fairer forms for gladsome merriment, Who wait my nod. The beauty of the nation Are gathered here to win your approbation. But you grow weary--Hither, maidens all, Forth from your bowers, responsive to my call, With roses crowned, let each and all advance, And let the Revels start with song and dance!" It was astonishing how well it sounded, recited with an air, and to an accompaniment of smiles and waving hands. Little Hilary Jervis, the youngest girl in the school, remarked rhapsodically that it was "Just like a pantomime!" and the finale to the address was so essentially dramatic that her elders were ready to agree with her decision.