d of the cause"

CHAPTER XX

THE FESTIVAL

Fortunately, the day of the Festival was a perfectly beautiful, balmy,
lovely spring day. The affair had been well-advertised by circulars, and
the residents of Cambridge had laid in a stock of small change, with
which to buy the wares of the itinerant peddlers.

All was bustle and merriment at the Bryant home. The children were to
start from there at about ten o'clock, and they were now getting on
their costumes.

Each peddler was expected to dress appropriately to the character of the
goods he was selling. This was not always an easy matter, but much
latitude was allowed; and so a Greek peddler sold pastry, an Italian
peddler sold peanuts, and an Indian Chief sold baskets and little Indian
trinkets. There were many others, selling notions, fruits, and even fresh
vegetables. One boy trundled a peanut roaster, and another was a vendor
of lemonade.

When ready to start, the Maynard children and their carts presented a
pretty appearance. The dolls were arranged in a light pushcart, borrowed
from the grocer. It was decorated with frills of crepe paper, and big
paper bows at the corners. In it were more than a hundred dolls, ranging
from the elaborately-dressed French beauties to the funny little puppets
the children had made.

Marjorie and Bertha Baker were themselves dressed to represent dolls.
Marjorie's dress was of pink muslin, frilled with lace, and a broad pink
sash, tied low, with a big bow in the back. A frilled bonnet of pink
muslin and lace crowned her dark curls, and she had been instructed by
Cousin Ethel to walk stiffly, and move jerkily like a jointed doll.
Bertha's costume was exactly like Marjorie's except that it was blue, and
as Bertha's hair was blonde and curly, she looked very like a Bisque
doll. But Bertha's face wore naturally a discontented expression, which
was far less doll-like than Marjorie's smiling countenance.

As Cousin Ethel had prophesied, Marjorie found her new acquaintance
decidedly ill-natured. But forewarned is forearmed, and Marjorie only
replied pleasantly when Bertha made a sullen remark. Of course she was
not really rude, and of course she had no reason to dislike Marjorie. But
she was continually complaining that she was tired, or that the sun was
too hot, or that she didn't like their cart as well as some of the
others. She had an unfortunate disposition, and had not had the right
training, so the result made her anythi