ased if I could form a group with some one."

The strains of the minuet began. Mrs. Peterkin was anxious to join the
performers. It was the dance of her youth.

But she was delayed by one of the managers on the steps that led to
the stage.

"I cannot understand this company," he said, distractedly.

"They cannot find their booth," said another.

"That is the case," said Mr. Peterkin, relieved to have it stated.

"Perhaps you had better pass into the corridor," said a polite
marshal.

They did this, and, walking across, found themselves in the
refreshment-room. "This is the booth for us," said Mr. Peterkin.

"Indeed it is," said Mrs. Peterkin, sinking into a chair, exhausted.

At this moment two doves and a raven appeared,--the little boys, who
had been dancing eagerly in Mother Goose's establishment, and now came
down for ice-cream.

"I hardly know how to sit down," said Elizabeth Eliza, "for I am sure
Mrs. Shem never could. Still, as I do not know if I am Mrs. Shem, I
will venture it."

Happily, seats were to be found for all, and they were soon arranged
in a row, calmly eating ice-cream.

"I think the truth is," said Mr. Peterkin, "that we represent
historical people, and we ought to have been fictitious characters in
books. That is, I observe, what the others are. We shall know better
another time."

"If we only ever get home," said Mrs. Peterkin, "I shall not wish to
come again. It seems like being on the stage, sitting in a booth, and
it is so bewildering, Elizabeth Eliza not knowing who she is, and
going round and round in this way."

"I am afraid we shall never reach home," said Agamemnon, who had been
silent for some time; "we may have to spend the night here. I find I
have lost our checks for our clothes in the cloak-room!"

"Spend the night in a booth, in Cleopatra's turban!" exclaimed Mrs.
Peterkin.

"We should like to come every night," cried the little boys.

"But to spend the night," repeated Mrs. Peterkin.

"I conclude the Carnival keeps up all night," said Mr. Peterkin.

"But never to recover our cloaks," said Mrs. Peterkin; "could not the
little boys look round for the checks on the floors?"

She began to enumerate the many valuable things that they might never
see again. She had worn her large fur cape of stone-marten,--her
grandmother's,--that Elizabeth Eliza had been urging her to have made
into a foot-rug. Now how she wished she had! And there were Mr.
Peterkin's new oversh