y rate, I may be chosen for
a court lady in the chorus. I hope you'll be in it, too."

"I can't sing well enough," laughed Marjorie. "But I'll be there on
Saturday, and perhaps I'll be lucky enough to get into it somehow. Won't
it be fun to rehearse? Hal Macy ought to have a part. He has a splendid
tenor voice, and the Crane can sing bass. I can hardly wait until
Saturday comes. I am so anxious to see who will be chosen."

Marjorie's pleasant anxiety was shared by the majority of the girls of
Sanford High School. The proposed operetta became the chief topic for
discussion as the unusually long week dragged interminably along toward
that fateful Saturday. Even the high and mighty seniors condescended to
become interested. Among their number, more than one ambitious seeker
after fame secretly imagined herself as carrying off the role of the
Rebellious Princess, and conducted assiduous practice of much neglected
scales in the hope of glory to come.

As the star singer of her class, Constance Stevens' name was often
brought up for discussion among her classmates as the possibly
successful contestant in the try-out. Besides, was it not Lawrence
Armitage's opera? It was generally known that the dark-haired,
dreamy-eyed lad had a decided predeliction for Constance's society.
Rumor, therefore, decreed that if Laurie Armitage had the say, Constance
would have no trouble in carrying off the leading role.

But the most determined aspirant for fame was none other than Mignon La
Salle. With her usual slyness, she kept her own counsel. Nevertheless,
she believed she stood a fair chance of winning the prize of which she
dreamed. For Mignon could sing. From childhood her father had spared no
expense in the matter of her musical education. An ardent lover of
music he had decreed that Mignon should be initiated into the mysteries
of the piano when a tiny girl, and, although Mr. La Salle had allowed
her undisputed liberty to grow up as she pleased, on one point he was
firm. Mignon must not merely study music; she must each day practice the
required number of hours. In the beginning she had rebelled, but finding
her too indulgent parent adamant in this one particular, she had been
forced to bow her obstinate head to his decree. In consequence she
profited by the enforced practice hours to the extent of becoming a
really creditable performer on the piano for a girl of her years. At
fourteen she had begun vocal training. Possessed of a st