“And who will be Ahasuerus?”

“I don’t know.  Hamilton Rush, I reckon; he’s a nice fellow.”

“O Preston, why don’t you be Ahasuerus?”

“I am manager, you know, Daisy; it won’t do for the manager to take the best pieces for himself.  Ahasuerus is one of the best.  See how handsome the dress is—­and the attitude, and everything.”

“I don’t see where you will find the dresses,” said Daisy.  “All those are robes of silk and velvet and fur; and then the jewels, Preston!”

“Nonsense, Daisy.  Aunt Felicia will let us take all her stores of satins and velvets and feathers and jewellery too.  It won’t hurt them to be looked at.”

“I think,” said Daisy slowly,—­“I think I will not be Queen Esther.”

“Why not? don’t you like her looks?”

“O yes. That’s no matter; but I would rather somebody else would be it.”

“Why, little Daisy?  You are the one; nobody can be Esther but you.”

“I think I will not,” said Daisy thoughtfully.

“What’s the matter, Daisy?  You must.  I want you for Esther and nobody else.  What is the objection?”

“I would rather not,” said Daisy.  “I don’t know Hamilton Rush much.”

This was said with extreme demureness, and Preston bit his lips almost till the blood came to prevent the smile which would have startled Daisy.

“You won’t know him at all when he is dressed and with his crown on.  It’s all a play.  You can imagine he is the real old Persian king, who looked so fiercely on the beautiful Jewess when she ventured unsummoned into his presence.”

“I could not stand like that,” said Daisy.

“Yes, you could.  That’s easy.  You are fainting in the arms of your attendants.”

“Who will the attendants be?”

“I don’t know.  Who do you think?”

“I think I would rather not be in this picture,—­” said Daisy.

“Yes, you will.  I want you.  It is too good to be given to somebody else.  It is one of the prettiest pictures we shall have, I reckon.”

“Then you must be the king.”

“Well—­we will see,” said Preston.  “What comes next?  ’Canute and his courtiers.’  That won’t do, because we could not have the sea in.”

“Nor the horse,” said Daisy.

“Not very well.—­What a stupid collection of portraits!  Nothing but portraits.”—­

“There are fortune tellers.”

“That won’t do—­not interest enough.  There! here’s one.  ’Little Red Riding-hood.’  That will be beautiful for you, Daisy.”

“But Preston, I mustn’t be everything.”

“Plenty more things coming.  You don’t like Red Riding-hood?  Then we will give it to Nora or Ella.”

“O like it,” said Daisy.  “I like it much better than Esther—­unless you will play Ahasuerus.”

“Well I will put you down for both of ’em.”

“But who’s to be anything else?”