picturesquely attired individuals I had
caught sight of were models--taking the air, or snatching a moment for
flirtation. Naturally they would not have appeared in costume in any
other street in New York, but this, you see, was Macdougal Alley, and
as my friend, the truck driver, seemed to think, that explains
everything!

As for the Mews, they are fixing it up in great shape; and as for
those Eighth-Street studios, they are too beautiful for words. You
look out on Italian gardens, and you know that you are nowhere near
New York, with its prose and drudgery. If for a moment it seems all a
bit too perfect for the haphazard, inspirational loveliness of the
Village, you will surely have an arresting instinct which will tell
you that it is just consummating a Village dream; it is just making
what every Villager lives to make come true: perfect artistic beauty.

As we have seen, dancing is a real passion in the Village. So we can
scarcely leave it without touching on the "Village dances" which have
been so striking a feature of recent times and have proved so useful
and so fruitful to the tired Sunday-supplement newspaperman. There are
various sorts, from the regular pageants staged by the Liberal Club
and the Kit Kat, to those of more modest pretensions given by
individual Villagers or groups of Villagers.

The _Quatres Arts_ balls of Paris doubtless formed the basis for these
affairs; indeed, a description given me years ago by William Dodge,
the artist, might almost serve as the story of one of these Village
balls today. And Doris, who, I believe, appeared on one occasion as
"Aphrodite,"--in appropriate "costume"--recalls the celebrated model
Sara Brown who electrified Paris by her impersonation of "Cleopatra"
at a _"Quatz 'Arts"_ gathering,--somewhat similarly arrayed,--or
should we say decorated?

The costumes,--many of them at least,--are largely--paint! This is not
nearly as improper as it sounds. Splashes of clever red and subtle
purple will quite creditably take the place of more cumberous and
expensive dressing,--or at least will pleasantly eke it out. Colour
has long been recognised as a perfectly good substitute for cloth.
Have you forgotten the small boy's abstract of the first history
book--" ... The early Britons wore animals' skins in winter, and in
summer they painted themselves blue." I am convinced that wode was the
forerunner of the dress of the Village ball!

The Kit Kat, an artists' association,