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"They really will be," cried Polly, enchanted at her success, "Jasper and Ben and Clare; and they will give you a ride, and show you a cave, oh! and perfect quant.i.ties of things; you can't think how many!"
Phronsie clapped her hands and laughed aloud in glee.
"Oh! I don't care if they are true dragons, Polly, I don't," she cried, dreadfully excited. "Make 'em real big live ones, do; do make them big, and let me ride on their backs."
"These will be just as real," said Polly comfortingly, "that is, they'll act real, only there will be boys inside of them. Oh! we'll have them nice, dear, don't you fear."
"But I'd really rather have true ones," sighed Phronsie.
III
THE REHEARSAL
"Now, Phronsie," said Polly, on her knees before the Princess, who was slowly evolving into "a thing of beauty," "do hold still just a minute, dear. There," as she thrust in another pin, then turned her head critically to view her work, "I do hope that is right."
Phronsie sighed. "May I just stretch a wee little bit, Polly," she asked timidly, "before you pin it up? Just a very little bit?"
"To be sure you may," said Polly, looking into the flushed little face; "I'll tell you, you may walk over to the window and back, once; that'll rest you and give me a chance to see what is the matter with that back drapery."
So Phronsie, well pleased, gathered up the embyro robe of the Princess and moved off, a bewildering tangle of silver spangles and floating lace, drawn over the skirt of one of Mrs. Whitney's white satin gowns.
"There ought to be a dash of royal purple somewhere," said Polly, sitting on the floor to see her go, and resting her tired hands on her knees. "Now where shall I get it, and where shall I put it when I do have it?" She wrinkled up her eyebrows a moment, lost in thought over the momentous problem. "Oh! I know," and she sprang up exultingly.
"Phronsie, won't this be perfectly lovely? we can take that piece of tissue paper Auntie gave you, and I can cut out little knots and sashes. It is so soft, that in the gaslight they will look like silk.
How fine!"
"Can't I be a Princess unless you sew up that purple paper?" asked Phronsie, pausing suddenly to look over her shoulder in dismay at Polly.
"Why, yes, you can be, of course," said Polly, "but you can't be as good a one as if you had a dash of royal purple about you. What's a bit of tissue paper to the glory of being a Princess?" she cried, with sparkling eyes. "Dear me, I wish I could be one."
"Well, you may have it, Polly," said Phronsie with a sigh, "and then afterwards I'll rip it all off and smooth it out, and it will be almost as good as new."
"I think there won't be much left of it when the play is over," cried Polly with a laugh; "why, the dragons are going to carry you off to their cave, you know, and you are to be rescued by the knight, just think, Phronsie! You can't expect to have such perfectly delightful times, and come out with a quant.i.ty of tissue paper all safe. Something has to be scarified to royalty, child."
Phronsie sighed again. But as Polly approved of royalty so highly, she immediately lent herself to the antic.i.p.ations of the pleasure before her, smothering all lesser considerations.
"When you get your little silver cap on with one of Auntie's diamond rings sewed in it, why, you'll be too magnificent for anything," said Polly, now pulling and patting with fresh enthusiasm, since the "purple dash" was forthcoming.
"Princesses don't wear silver caps with diamond rings sewed in them,"
observed Phronsie wisely.
"Of course not; they have diamonds by the bushel, and don't need to sew rings in their caps to make them sparkle," said Polly, plaiting and pinning rapidly, "but in dressing up for a play, we have to take a poetic license. There, turn just one bit to the right, Phronsie dear."
"What's poetic license?" demanded Phronsie, wrenching her imagination off from the bushel of diamonds to seize practical information.
"Oh! when a man writes verses and says things that aren't so," said Polly, her mind on the many details before her.
"But he ought not to," cried Phronsie, with wide eyes, "say things that are not so. I thought poets were always very good, Polly."
"Oh! well, people let him," said Polly, carelessly, "because he puts it into poetry. It would never do in prose; that would be quite shocking."
"Oh!" said Phronsie, finding the conversation some alleviation to the fitting-on process.
"Now this left side," said Polly, twisting her head to obtain a good view of the point in question, "is just right; I couldn't do it any better if I were to try a thousand times. Why won't this other one behave, and fall into a pretty curve, I wonder?"
Phronsie yawned softly as the brown eyes were safely behind her.
"I shall gather it up anyway, so," and Polly crushed the refractory folds recklessly in one hand; "that's the way Mary Gibbs's hat tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs look, and I'm sure they're a complete success. Oh! that's lovely," cried Polly, at the effect. "Now, that's the treatment the whole drapery needs," she added in the tone of an art connoisseur. "Oh!"
A rus.h.i.+ng noise announced the approach of two or three boys, together with the barking of Prince, as they all ran down the wide hall.
"O dear, dear!" exclaimed Polly, hurriedly pulling and pinning, "there come the boys to rehea.r.s.e. It can't be four o'clock," as the door opened and three members of the cast entered.
"It's quarter-past four," said Jasper, laughing and pulling out his watch; "we gave you an extra fifteen minutes, as you had such a lot to do. Dear me! but you are fine, Phronsie. I make my obeisance to Princess Clotilde!" and he bowed low to the little silver and white figure, as did the other two boys, and then drew off to witness the final touches.
"It's a most dreadful thing," cried Polly, pus.h.i.+ng back the brown waves from her brow, as she also fell off to their point of view, "to get up a princess. I had no idea it was such a piece of work."
"You have scored an immense success," said Jasper enthusiastically.
"Oh, Phronsie! you will make the hit of the season."
"You'll think it is even much nicer when it is done," said Polly, vastly relieved that Jasper had given such a kind verdict. "It's to have a dash of royal purple on that right side, and in one of the shoulder knots, and to catch up her train."
"That will be very pretty, I don't doubt," said Jasper, trying to resolve himself into the cold critic, "but it seems to me it is almost perfect now, Polly."
"Oh! thank you so much," she cried, with blooming cheeks. "How do you like it, Clare and Bensie?"
"I can't tell," said Ben, slowly regarding the Princess on all sides; "it's so transforming."
"It's tiptop!" cried Clare. "It out-princesses any princess I've ever imagined."
"Well, it's a perfect relief," said Polly, "to have you boys come in.
I've been working so over it that I was ready to say it was horrid.
It's too bad, isn't it, that d.i.c.k can't be here to-day to rehea.r.s.e his part?"
"To be sure," exclaimed Jasper, looking around, "where is the Princess's page?"
"He's gone to the dentist's," said Polly, making a wry face. "Auntie had to make the appointment for this afternoon, and we couldn't put off the rehearsal; Clare can't come any other time, you know."
Phronsie turned an anxious face to the window. "I hope he's not being hurt very much," she said slowly.
"I don't believe he is," Polly made haste to answer most cheerfully, "it was only one tooth, you know, Phronsie, to be filled. Auntie says Dr. Porter told her the rest are all right."
But a cloud rested on the Princess's face. "One tooth is something,"
she said.