it to you."

Frank grinned so broadly that Jane grew suspicious. "Pooh, you're
teasing, I'll ask Father to-night."

The girls scoured the pantry and spring house for provender for the
picnic. Sherm and Ernest would be in from the meadow where they were
cutting down thistles about half-past twelve. Bread and butter and cold
ham were flanked with cookies, pie, and musk melons. Annie wanted them
out of her road as speedily as possible, so they took their stuff all
down to the orchard and stowed it away in the shade.

"Now what?" demanded Katy.

"I don't know. Wish we could think of something new." Chicken Little
stared up and down the rows of apple trees, seeking an inspiration.

Her glance fell upon a lone apple tree standing in the center of an open
space, apart from all its fellows. Katy's glance followed hers.

"Why is that old tree all by itself that way?"

"I don't know--they were all big trees when we came here. It is a
bell-flower and we call it Old King Bee. Say, I've got an idea. Let's
get Calico and Caliph and play riding school--you remember that article
in 'The Harper's' about a riding school in New York, and you said you
wished you could go."

"Would Ernest let us take Caliph?"

"I don't know, but I know I could ride him if I tucked my skirts up and
used the man's saddle. There can't a soul see us here; it's so shut in
by the trees."

"It would be fun. Let's try to ride bare back and do stunts to surprise
the boys. I wish we could take our skirts clear off--they catch so on
the saddle horn and in the stirrup buckles."

"I tell you what we'll do." Chicken Little's eyes danced impishly.
"There are lots of Ernest's old trousers in the lumber-room closet that
he outgrew ever so long ago. I believe we could find some to fit all of
us. Let's go see."

A swift rummage of the dusty closet set them all sneezing, but they
triumphantly brought forth an armful of defunct trousers and carried
them up to their room. For the next fifteen minutes such giggles and
exclamations and shrieks of laughter escaped from their room that Annie
left her ironing to see what was up. An astonishing sight met her gaze.
Once started upon the dressing-up craze, the girls had not been content
with one garment. Chicken Little had daringly ransacked not only
Ernest's bureau, but Sherm's possessions, in quest of shirts and ties.

She had decked herself in a blue checked cheviot shirt, tucked into blue
serge trousers, liberally pa