the mirror, yet, aided by her imagination, it was
pleasing. She stood with arms extended in a languid, graceful pose, her
head thrown back, gazing with half-closed eyes at something far, far
beyond her own eyes in the glass.

Then suddenly she began to dance. She danced with her feet, her arms,
her hands, her soul. She felt within her the grace of stately beauties,
the heartbeat of dew-jewelled fairies, the longings of untrammelled
butterflies--dancing, she could have flown up to heaven at that moment!
A gurgle of sound interrupted her; it was the baby. "Do you like me,
baby?" she cried. "Am I beautiful, baby?"

Baby, now, could talk quite presentably in the language of grown-ups.
But in addition he knew all kinds of wise, unintelligible words. Missy
knew that they were wise, even though she could not understand their
meaning, and she was glad the baby chose, this time, to answer in that
secret jargon.

She kissed the baby and, in return, the baby smiled his secret smile.
Missy was sure that Poppy then smiled too, a secret smile; so she kissed
Poppy also. How wonderful, how mysterious, were the smiles of baby and
Poppy! What unknown thoughts produced them?

At this point her cogitations were interrupted and her playacting
spoiled by the unexpected return of mother and Aunt Nettie. It seemed
that certain of the ladies had obligingly been "out."

"What in the world are you doing, Missy?" asked mother.

Missy suddenly felt herself a very foolish-appearing object in her party
finery. She tried to make an answer, but the right words were difficult
to find.

"Party!" said Aunt Nettie significantly.

Missy, still standing in mute embarrassment, couldn't have explained how
it was not the party entirely.

Mother did not scold her for dressing up.

"Better get those things off, dear," she said kindly, "and come in and
let me curl your hair. I'd better do it before supper, before the baby
gets cross." The crimped coiffure was an immense success; even in her
middy blouse Missy felt transformed. She could have kissed herself in
the glass!

"Do you think I look pretty, mother?" she asked. "You mustn't think of
such things, dear." But, as mother stooped to readjust a waving lock,
her fingers felt marvellously tender to Missy's forehead.

Evening arrived with a sunset of grandeur and glory. It made everything
look as beautiful as it should look on the occasion of a festival. The
beautiful and festive aspect of the world