Betty's Happy Year

But, as she gazed, Betty decided that looks would not have much to do with it. The girls must depend on their costumes to represent the character they assumed.

And so Betty hesitated between the two she liked.

Queen Elizabeth would be grand! In fancy, she saw herself in a stiff, quilted satin petticoat, and long, heavy train of crimson velvet, edged with ermine; a huge ruff round her neck, and a gorgeous gilt crown! This would be fine. Yet there was something very attractive about the idea of Pocahontas; an Indian costume trimmed with gay fringes and beads; leather leggings, and tall quill-feathers sticking up round her head; a bow and arrow, perhaps, and a quiver slung from one shoulder! Yes, it was enticing, but the Queen’s costume was grander and even more enticing in color and glitter. So Betty wrote her own name, and then wrote “Queen Elizabeth” below it, and the papers were all gathered up.

Miss Whittier dismissed the girls then, and said she would tell them definitely the next day what character each should have, and, moreover, she asked them not to tell any one about the entertainment, nor to tell each other what rôle they had chosen. So, as the girls were conscientious in these matters, they did not tell each other what parts they wished to take, but many and eager discussions were held about the details of the great occasion.

Betty told her mother of the choice she had made, as the pledge of secrecy did not include mothers.

Mrs. McGuire smiled at the idea of Betty robed as Queen Elizabeth, but she said:

“Well, at any rate, you look quite as much like Elizabeth as any of the other girls. And we’ll fix up a fine costume for you. I’ll find a picture of the Queen in her most gorgeous robes, and we’ll have it copied as nearly as possible.”

“And I must have a lot of jewels!” said Betty, clasping her hands ecstatically at the thought of such grandeur.

“Yes,” said Mrs. McGuire; “you may wear my necklace, and perhaps Grandma will lend you some large old-fashioned brooches. I think we need not be so very particular as to their being really of the Elizabethan period.”

“Oh, no; any glittery things will do. I think we ought to try some necklaces of big imitation gems.”

“Perhaps we shall! At any rate, we’ll copy the picture as nearly as we can.”

“And it will be a gorgeous costume, won’t it? Oh, I’m glad now I didn’t choose Pocahontas!”

“What sort of speech do you have to make, Betty?”

“I don’t know, Mother. Miss Whittier has them, all type-written, and she will give them to us soon, she said. But I’ll not have any trouble to learn it. I can learn things to recite so easily.”

“Yes, your memory is wonderful. And I suppose one of the teachers will train you.”

“Yes, in gestures and expression. Oh, Mother, won’t it be fun?”

“Yes, girlie? I know it’s just the sort of fun you like.”

“Oh, I do; I’ll walk like this.” Catching up her slumber-robe from the couch, Betty held it from her shoulders like a court train, and walked across the room with stiff, stagy strides, holding her head very high.

“Hello, your Majesty, what are you doing?” said Jack, appearing at the door.

“Good for you, Jack!” cried Betty; “I’m pleased that you should have recognized what was meant for a queenly gait. I’m Queen Elizabeth of England.”

“Pooh! You look more like the White Queen of Looking-Glass Land!”

“Well, maybe I do now; but just you wait till I get my velvet train and jeweled crown, – and, oh, Mother, shall I have a scepter?”

“Yes, I think that’s part of the costume.”

“Oh, what fun!” and seizing Jack, Betty waltzed him about the room by way of expressing her glee.

“Hi, Betty, go slower!” he exclaimed breathlessly; “queens dance stately minuets – they don’t dance break-downs!”

“This queen does,” said Betty, calmly, but she let Jack go, on condition that he would help her hunt the library for books containing pictures of the Queen.

Next day no mention was made of the entertainment until after lessons were over. It was nearly time for dismissal when Miss Whittier summoned the pupils to her in the assembly-room.

She looked at them in a little perplexity, and then she smiled.

“I did not foresee the result,” she said, “when I asked you young ladies to choose your parts for our little play. I thought that if two or even three should choose the same character we could readily arrange matters by a little friendly discussion. But, to my surprise, when the papers were looked over, this was the result: twelve girls have chosen the Goddess of Honor; nine have selected Pocahontas; seven want Queen Elizabeth, and the others are scattering. Now, as you can readily see, this state of affairs requires arbitration. So I am obliged to tell you that we must disregard your wishes, and assign the parts as we, the teachers, think best.”

The girls laughed heartily when they realized how many of their number had asked for the most desirable part, that of Goddess of Honor, and they agreed that, after all, the fairest way was for the teachers to assign the parts, and then there could be no preference.

“And so,” went on Miss Whittier, “I have prepared full directions for each of you. Here are the envelopes for you all, and in your envelope you will each find the name of the character you are to take, with full description of costume, and a copy of the lines you are to learn to recite in the play. And please remember the appointments are final and unalterable.” The envelopes were distributed, and each girl looked eagerly inside to see what her part might be.

“You are dismissed,” said Miss Whittier. “There is no further occasion for secrecy, though I’m sure it will be better for the success of our entertainment not to tell your friends who will be in the audience much about it beforehand.”

“What’s the matter, Betty?” said Dorothy, as, with Jeanette, they all started homeward. “You look as if you’d lost your last friend.”

And truly Betty did look woebegone. Her cheeks were flushed with anger, her lips were drawn in a tight line, and her eyes already showed hints of flooding with tears.

“Look at that!” she exclaimed tragically, as she held out her paper toward the girls.

“‘Grace Darling!’” read Dorothy. “Oh, Betty, you don’t like your part, do you?”

“Like it!” cried Betty; “read what the costume is!”

“‘Simple sailor suit,’” read Dorothy, “‘of dark-blue flannel, small yachting-cap, or no hat at all. Carry an oar.’ Why, that’s a sweet little costume, Betty.”

“Sweet little nothing!” cried Betty, stormily. “I don’t want to wear a common, every-day sailor suit! And carry an oar! Oh!”

“What did you want?” asked Jeanette.

“I wanted to be a goddess,” said Betty, honestly. “But I didn’t write that, ’cause I was ’most sure Miss Whittier would rather have a yellow-haired girl for that. So I chose Queen Elizabeth, but I’d have been satisfied with Pocahontas. But Grace Darling! Oh, I think it’s mean!”

“Why, Grace Darling was very noble and heroic,” said Jeanette.

“Oh, of course. Grace Darling herself was wonderful. I just adore her! But I want to wear a pretty costume in the play – a grand one, you know, like a queen or something.”

“Yes, I know,” said Dorothy, sympathetically, for she well knew Betty’s love of bright colors and gay “dressing up.” “I think it’s a shame, too. Maybe Miss Whittier will let you change with me.”

“No, she said we positively couldn’t change our parts. And, anyhow, I wouldn’t take yours if it’s nicer than mine. What is yours, Dot?”

“Queen Elizabeth,” said Dorothy, feeling as mean as if she had been caught in a wrong action.

Betty had to smile at Dorothy’s contrite tone.

“Well,” she said, “I’d rather you’d have it than any one else. Mother’ll lend you her necklace, I know. What’s yours, Jeanette?”

“Joan of Arc, and just the one I wanted.”

“That’s nice,” said Betty. “I’m glad you got it. But, oh, girls, I wish I had a pretty one. If I’d only had Priscilla or Cleopatra, or anybody that wore pretty things! But ‘a simple sailor suit!’”