pproaching!"

During the last few moments there had appeared in the hitherto spotless
sky a huge, livid cloud, rising from the west and urged along by a
sudden squall. It presaged a return of the violent stormy showers of the
previous night.

"Rain! Oh, we don't care about that," the girl responded with an air of
superb defiance. "It will never dare to come down before we get home."

Then, with a comical semblance of authority, she disposed her people in
the order which she had planned in her mind a week previously. And the
procession set off through the admiring village, amid the smiles of all
the good women hastening to their doorsteps, and then spread out along
the white road between the fertile fields, where bands of startled
larks took wing, carrying their clear song to the heavens. It was really
magnificent.

At the head of the party were Rose and Frederic, side by side on their
bicycles, opening the nuptial march with majestic amplitude. Behind
them followed the three maids of honor, the younger sisters, Louise,
Madeleine, and Marguerite, the tallest first, the shortest last, and
each on a wheel proportioned to her growth. And with berets* on their
heads, and their hair down their backs, waving in the breeze, they
looked adorable, suggesting a flight of messenger swallows skimming over
the ground and bearing good tidings onward. As for Gregoire the page,
restive and always ready to bolt, he did not behave very well; for he
actually tried to pass the royal couple at the head of the procession,
a proceeding which brought him various severe admonitions until he fell
back, as duty demanded, to his deferential and modest post. On the other
hand, as the three maids of honor began to sing the ballad of
Cinderella on her way to the palace of Prince Charming, the royal couple
condescendingly declared that the song was appropriate and of pleasing
effect, whatever might be the requirements of etiquette. Indeed, Rose,
Frederic, and Gregoire also ended by singing the ballad, which rang out
amid the serene, far-spreading countryside like the finest music in the
world.

* The beret is the Pyreneean tam-o'-shanter.

Then, at a short distance in the rear, came the chariot, the good
old family wagon, which was now crowded. According to the prearranged
programme it was Gervais who held the ribbons, with Claire beside him.
The two strong horses trotted on in their usual leisurely fashion, in
spite of all the gay whip-cracki