ind her surprisingly bare shoulders--the nightgown was
decidedly _decollete_, and had been made for a person several sizes
larger than Caroline.

"Hooma keecha da!" crooned the General. His conversation was
evidently based on the theory that the English language is a dark
mystery, insoluble by system, but likely to be blundered into
fortuitously, at any moment, if the searcher gabble with sufficient
steadiness and persistence. His costume, consisting merely of the
ordinary blue denim overalls of commerce, would have been positively
commonplace were it not for the wings of bright pink tissue paper,
which he wore with a somewhat confusing obstinacy, pinned firmly to
his chest. Miss Honey assisted his wavering footsteps rather
sulkily; she longed for the white and lacy draperies in front of her
and regarded her ballet skirts of stitched newspaper with bare
tolerance. It is true she wore a crown of tinfoil and carried a wand
made of half a brass curtain rod; but her laced tan boots, stubbed
and stained, showed with disgusting plainness, and nobody would take
the trouble to make her a newspaper bodice.

"If you don't stop tickling me with that arrow, Brother Washburn,
I'll go back!" she declared, snappishly.

The fourth member of the crew, whose bathing trunks and jersey,
fitted with surprisingly life-like muslin wings, pointed to Puck,
though the quiver slung across his shoulder woke conflicting
memories of Diana, chuckled guiltily and took a flying leap
from the big boulder into the center of the glade. His wings
stiffened realistically, and as he landed, poised on one
classically sandalled foot with arms outspread, the picnic
party before him started violently, and one of them clutched
the other's sleeve with a little cry.

"What the--oh, it's all right! He's the real thing, isn't he, now?"

The young man patted the girl's shoulder reassuringly and chuckled
as the rest of the crew emerged from the pines and peered over the
boulder.

"They're only children," he said.

She dropped her eyes and tightened her fingers around the shining
drinking cup.

"Why, yes, they're only children," she repeated carelessly.

Now, each of these picnic people had said the same words, but it was
entirely obvious to their fascinated audience that the words meant
very different things. For this reason they sidled around the young
lady impersonally, avoiding with care the edges of her pale-tinted
billowy skirts, and lined up confiden