With some embarrassment, Abby admitted that this was her motive.

A sudden thought occurred to Marion.  “Then, Abby, you shall!” said she.  “I’ll arrange it; but don’t say a word about it to any one.  Let the girls think you are to be Queen, if they please.  Why, missy,” she went on, becoming enthusiastic, “it is really a clever idea for our drama.  We shall have a lovely May piece, after all.”

Marion hastened away, intent upon working out the new plan which her quick fancy had already sketched in outline.  To be sure, she and Ellen had devised a different one, and agreed that each should write certain scenes.  Ellen had taken the first opportunity that morning to whisper that she had devoted to the drama all the previous evening and an hour before breakfast.  Marion, indeed, had done the same.

“But it will not make any difference.  We can change the lines a little,” she said to herself, after reading the manuscript, which Ellen passed to her at the hour of German study,—­a time they were allowed to take for this particular composition.

Ellen, however, thought otherwise.

“What! another plan for the May piece!” she said, when Marion mentioned the subject.  “Why, see all I’ve written; and in rhyme, too!”

“But it can be altered without much trouble,” explained her friend.

“No, it can’t.  You will only make a hodge-podge of my verses,” she answered, excitedly.  “I do think, Marion, that once we agreed upon the plan, you ought to have kept to it, instead of changing everything just because of a notion of a little girl like Abby Clayton.  Here I’ve been working hard for nothing,—­it was just a waste of time!”

Marion pleaded and reasoned, but without avail.  Ellen’s vanity was wounded.  She chose to imagine that her classmate, and sometimes rival, did not care whether her lines were spoiled or not.

“No, no!” she reiterated.  “I’ll have nothing to do with your new plan.  You can get up the whole piece yourself.”

“At least give me what you have written,” urged Marion.  “We are so hurried, and the children ought to have their parts as soon as possible.”

But Ellen remained obdurate.

Marion consulted the others of the class, and, after some discussion, they decided in favor of the later design.  For the next few days she devoted every spare moment to the work.  By the end of the week she had not only finished the portion she had been expected to write, but also much of what Ellen was to have done; and the parts were distributed among the children.  There were still wanting, however, the opening address and a dialogue, both of which Ellen had completed.

“Oh, dear,” cried Marion, “that address of Ellen’s is so pretty and appropriate!  If she would only let us have it!  As we planned it together, if I write one the principal ideas will be the same; and then, likely as not, she will say I copied from hers.  How shall I manage?”