“How much that little one wanted to be Red Riding-hood,” said Daisy.

“Yes.  Little Malapert!”

“You will let her, won’t you?”

“I reckon I won’t.  You are to be Red Riding-hood—­unless,—­I don’t know; perhaps that would be a good one to give Nora Dinwiddie.  I shall see.”

That day was gone.  The next day there was a great overhauling, by Preston and his mother and Daisy, of the stores of finery which Mrs. Randolph put at their disposal.  Mrs. Randolph herself would have nothing to do with the arrangements; she held aloof from the bustle attending them; but facilities and materials she gave with unsparing hand.  Daisy was very much amused.  Mrs. Gary and Preston had a good deal of consultation over the finery, having at the same time the engravings spread out before them.  Such stores of satin and lace robes, and velvet mantles, and fur wrappings and garnishings, and silken scarfs, and varieties of adornment old and new, were gathered into one room and displayed, that it almost tired Daisy to look at them.  Nevertheless she was amused.  And she was amused still more, when later in the day, after luncheon, Mrs. Sandford arrived and was taken up into the tiring room, as Preston called it.  Here she examined the pictures and made a careful survey of the articles with which she must work to produce the desired effects.  Some of the work was easy.  There was an old cardinal, of beautiful red cloth, which doubtless would make up Red Riding-hood with very little trouble.  There were beautiful plumes for Fortitude’s head; and Daisy began to wonder how she would look with their stately grace waving over her.  Mrs. Sandford tried it.  She arranged the plume on Daisy’s head; and with a turn or two of a dark cashmere scarf imitated beautifully the classic folds of the drapery in the picture.  Then she put Daisy in the attitude of the figure; and by that time Daisy felt so strange that her face was stern and grave enough to need no admonishing.  Preston clapped his hands.

“If you will only look like that, Daisy, in the tableau!”

“Look how?” said Daisy.

“Mrs. Sandford, did you ever see anything so perfect?”

“It is excellent,” said that lady.

“If they will all do as well, we shall be encored.  But there is no dress here for Bassanio, Mrs. Sandford.”

“You would hardly expect your mother’s or your aunt’s wardrobe to furnish that.”

“Hardly.  But I am sure uncle Randolph’s wardrobe would not do any better.  It will have to be made.”

“I think I have something at home that will do—­something that was used once for a kindred purpose.  I think I can dress Bassanio—­as far as the slashings are concerned.  The cap and plume we can manage here—­and I dare say your uncle has some of those old-fashioned long silk hose.”

“Did papa ever wear such things?” said Daisy.

“Portia will be easy,” said Preston, looking round the room.