for everyone to
carry cards. Some of the characters will be easy to guess without
cards."

"I must tell mother about it as soon as I go home and ask her to help me
plan Snow White's costume. When will we receive our invitations?"

"We only send printed invitations to the boys. Every girl in high school
is invited, of course. The invitations will be sent to the boys next
week, and the Sanford girls will be notified at once, so as to give them
plenty of time to plan their costumes."

"I wish it were to be next week," murmured Marjorie, after she had left
Jerry and turned into her own street. "Everything has been gloomy and
horrid for so long. I'd love to have a good time again, just to see how
it seemed."

She reflected rather sadly that the disagreeable happenings of her
freshman year had outweighed her good times. She had entered Sanford
High School with the resolve to like every girl there, and with the hope
that the girls would like her, but in some way everything had gone
wrong. Perhaps she had been to blame. She had been warned in the
beginning not to champion Constance Stevens. Yet the very girls who had
warned her could never have been her intimate friends. Her ideals and
theirs, if they had ideals, were too widely separated. No; she had been
right in standing up for Constance. The fault lay with the latter. It
was she who had betrayed friendship.

Determined to go no further into this most painful of subjects, Marjorie
resolutely centered her thoughts upon the coming party. The moment she
reached home she ran upstairs to her room. Sitting down on the floor
before her bookcase, she drew out a thick red volume of Grimms' Fairy
Tales and read the story of Snow White. To her joy she discovered that
the colored frontispiece was a picture of Snow White begging admittance
at the home of the Seven Little Dwarfs.

"I'll ask mother to make me a high-waisted white gown like this one,
with pale blue trimmings and a big blue sash," she planned. "I'll wear
my pale blue slippers, the ones that have no heels, and white silk
stockings. Thank goodness, my hair is curly. I'll let it hang loose on
my shoulders. Of course, it isn't as black as ebony; but then, I can't
help that." With the book still in her hand she ran down the stairs,
two at a time, to tell her mother.

What mother is not interested in her daughter's school fun and parties?
Mrs. Dean entered at once into the planning of the costume and suggested
that Snow