“Oh, dear, I never could think of anything!” declared one.

“I should not know how to manage the dialogue.  My characters would be perfect sticks,” added a second.

“I can’t even write an interesting letter,” lamented some one else.

“I respectfully suggest that Marion and Ellen be requested to compose the drama,” said the first speaker, with mock ceremony.

“I agree with all my heart!” cried one.

“And I,”—­“and I!” chimed in the others.

“It is a unanimous vote,” continued their spokesman, turning to the young ladies in question, with a low bow.

“But we shall have all the work,” objected Marion.

“No:  we will take a double share at the rehearsals, and they will be no small part of the trouble.”

“I’ll do it if you will, Ellen,” began Marion.

“I don’t mind trying,” agreed Ellen.

Thus the matter was settled.

“Let us first select the little girls to take part in our drama,” Marion continued.

“There’s Annie Conwell,” said one.

“And Lucy Caryl,” interposed another.

So they went on, till they had chosen ten or twelve little girls.

“As it is to be a May piece, of course we must have a Queen,” said Ellen.

“Yes; and let us have Abby Clayton for the Queen,” rejoined Marion.  “Abby is passably good-looking and rather graceful; besides, she has a clear, strong voice, and plenty of self-confidence.  She would not be apt to get flustered.  Annie Conwell, now, is a dear child; but perhaps she would be timid, and it would spoil the whole play if the Queen should break down.”

After school the little girls were invited into the Graduates’ class-room; and, although not a word of the drama had yet been written, the principal parts were then and there assigned.  Lucy Caryl was to have the opening address, Annie as many lines as she would undertake, and so on.

Abby was delighted to find that she was chosen for the most prominent role.  She ran all the way home, and skipped gaily into the house and up to the sitting-room, where Mrs. Clayton was sewing.

“O mother!” she exclaimed, tossing off her hat and throwing her books upon the table, “we are to have a lovely drama at our school, and I’m to be the May-Queen!”

IV

“Just think, Larry!” said Abby to her brother, when he came home after a game of ball, “I’m to be Queen of May!”

“You!” he cried, in a disdainful tone.

“Yes, indeed!  And why not?  I’m sure I don’t see why you should look so surprised.  I’ve been chosen because I can speak and act the best in our division.”

“But the Blessed Virgin is Queen of May,” objected Larry.

“Oh, of course!” Abby said.  “But this will be only make believe, you know.  We are going to have a drama, and I’m to be Queen,—­that is all.”