ts the prettiest black and scarlet
suits that could be obtained for the Thanksgiving Day contest. It is
needless to say that they had also set their minds on carrying off the
victor's palm.

The game had been set for half past two o'clock, but long before that
hour the gallery audience of Sanford School girls, with a fair
sprinkling of boys from Weston High, had begun to arrive. Opinion was
divided as to the prospective winners. Marjorie's team boasted of
seasoned players, whose work on the field was well known. Mignon had not
been so fortunate. Neither Daisy Griggs nor Anne Easton had played
basket ball, previous to the opening of the season. But Mignon herself
was counted a powerful adversary. The sympathy of the boys lay for the
most part with Marjorie's squad. The Weston High lads were decidedly
partial to the pretty, brown-eyed girl, whose modest, gracious ways had
soon won their boyish approbation. Among the girls, however, Mignon
could count on fairly strong support.

As it was a practice game no special preparations in the way of songs or
the wearing of contestants' colors had been observed. That would come
later, on Thanksgiving Day. But excitement ran higher than usual in the
audience, for it had been whispered about that it was to be "some game."

"It's twenty-five after, children," informed Jerry Macy, who, with Irma
Linton and Constance Stevens, had been accorded the privilege of
invading the dressing room of Marjorie's team. Jerry had elected to
become a safety deposit vault for a miscellaneous collection of pins,
rings, neck chains and other simple jewelry dear to the heart of the
school girl. Marjorie's bracelet watch adorned one plump wrist, while
her own ornamented the other.

"Look out, Jerry, or you'll make yourself cross-eyed trying to tell time
by both those watches at once," giggled Susan Atwell.

"Don't you believe it," was Jerry's good-humored retort. "They're both
right to the minute."

"Remember, girls, that we've just _got_ to win," counseled Marjorie
fervently. "Keep your heads, and don't let a single thing get by you.
We've practiced our signals until I'm sure you all know them perfectly."

"We'll win fast enough, if certain persons play fairly," nodded Muriel
Harding, "but look out for Mignon."

A shrill blast from the referee's whistle followed Muriel's warning. It
called them to action.

The next instant five black and scarlet figures flashed forth onto the
gymnasium floor to