“The rest of it is quite as foolish.  When he landed on the earth again he found that the sun was still shining, although according to his calculation it ought to be midnight; and he also did not recognize the place he dropped upon in spite of the fact that he had apparently gone straight up and fallen straight down.  Strange people surrounded him and he had difficulty in making himself understood.  After a time he was taken before an official from whom he learned that on account of the rotation of the earth under him while he was in the air, although he had risen when but two leagues from Paris he had descended in Canada.”

The younger girls laughed delightedly at this absurd tale, as they worked at their task.  Bits of trailing vine fell from glass to glass so that none of the holders showed, but a delicate tinkling sounded from them like the water of a brook.

“This gown of yours is certainly successful,” decided Margaret, surveying the result of the Ethels’ work, “but I dare say it isn’t comfortable, so you’d better have another one that you can slip into behind the scenes after you’ve made the rounds in this.”

Helen took the advice and after the procession had passed by, she put on a pretty flowered muslin with pink ribbons.

Dorothy walked immediately behind Helen.  She was dressed like a garden lily, her petals wired so that they turned out and up at the tips.  She wore yellow stockings and slippers as a reminder of the anthers or pollen boxes on the ends of the stamens of the lilies.

Dicky’s costume created as much sensation as Roger’s.  He was a Jack-in-the-Pulpit.  A suit of green striped in two shades fitted him tightly, and over his head he carried his pulpit, a wire frame covered with the same material of which his clothes were made.  The shape was exact and he looked so grave as he peered forth from his shelter that his appearance was saluted with hearty hand clapping.

Several of the young people of the town followed in the Summer division.  One of them was a fleur-de-lis, wearing a skirt of green leaf blades and a bodice representing the purple petals of the blossom.  George Foster was monkshood, a cambric robe—­a “domino”—­serving to give the blue color note, and a very correct imitation of the flower’s helmet answering the purpose of a head-dress.  Gregory Patton was Grass, and achieved one of the successful costumes of the line with a robe that rippled to the ground, green cambric its base, completely covered with grass blades.

“That boy ought to have a companion dressed like a haycock,” laughed Mr. Emerson as Gregory passed him.

Margaret led the Autumn division, her dress copied from a chestnut tree and burr.  Her kirtle was of the long, slender leaves overlapping each other.  The bodice was in the tones of dull yellow found in the velvety inside of the opened burr and of the deep brown of the chestnut itself.  This, too, was approved by the onlookers.