t-ball game in the afternoon
between the Thanksgiving Dinners and the Training Tables was too
fantastic to have originated with any one but Madeline Ayres.

Georgia Ames, dressed as a huge turkey gobbler, captained the
Thanksgiving Dinners, who were gotten up as bunches of celery and mounds
of cranberry jelly. The captain of the Training Table simulated a big
bottle labeled "Pure Spring Water," and the members of her team were
tastefully trimmed with slices of dry bread. Being somewhat less
spectacular than their rivals, they were a little more agile and they
won the game, which was so funny that it sent two of the faculty into
hysterics.

"And that's almost as bad as indigestion," said Babe, who was a bunch of
celery. At least she had been one until she came into collision with the
water bottle and lost most of her trimmings.

It was really the Thanksgiving game that precipitated the plans for the
senior entertainment for the library fund. The fire the year before had
not only damaged the library considerably, but it had brought its
shortcomings and the absurdly small number of its volumes, compared with
the rapidly increasing number of the girls who used them, to the
attention of the public. Somebody had offered fifty thousand dollars for
a library fund provided the college raised an equal amount. The alumnae
were trying to get the money, and because they had helped the
undergraduates with their beloved Students' Building, they wanted the
undergraduates to help them now.

On the very evening of the game Marie Howard, the senior president,
caught Madeline on the way to Babbie's spread and laid the matter before
her.

"The alums want us to subscribe to the fund," she explained, "and then
they think each class ought to give an entertainment. Not a bit nervy,
are they? Well, of course 19-- has got to take the lead, and I've fairly
racked my brains to think what we can do. Now it's no trouble to you to
have lovely, comical ideas, and if you'll only help me out with this
entertainment, I'll be your friend for life."

"Why don't you appoint a committee to take charge of it?" inquired
Madeline, serenely.

Marie gave her a mournful look. "I suppose you think I haven't tried.
The girls are all willing to help, but they insist upon having the idea
to start with. I know you hate committees, Madeline, and I'm not asking
you to be on one--"

"You'd better not," interpolated Madeline, darkly, remembering the
drudgery she