As Cousin Ethel had prophesied, Marjorie found her new acquaintance decidedly ill-natured.  But forewarned is forearmed, and Marjorie only replied pleasantly when Bertha made a sullen remark.  Of course she was not really rude, and of course she had no reason to dislike Marjorie.  But she was continually complaining that she was tired, or that the sun was too hot, or that she didn’t like their cart as well as some of the others.  She had an unfortunate disposition, and had not had the right training, so the result made her anything but an amiable child.

Gay-hearted Marjorie, however, joked with Bertha, and then giggled at her own jokes, until Bertha was really forced to smile in return.

King, who pushed the doll-cart, was also dressed like a doll.  The boy looked very handsome, in a black velvet suit with lace ruffles at the wrists and knees, and long white stockings with black slippers.  He was clever, too, in assuming the character, and walked with stiff, jerky strides, like a mechanical doll that had just been wound up.

Kitty was a dream of beauty.  She was a little flower girl, of course, and wore the daintiest sort of a Dolly Varden costume.  Her overdress of flowered muslin was caught up at the sides in panniers over a quilted skirt of light blue satin.  A broad-brimmed leghorn hat with a wreath of roses, and fluttering blue ribbons, sat jauntily on her golden hair.  May Perry, who was Kitty’s companion, was costumed the same way, and the boy who pushed their cart was dressed like a page.

The flower cart held not only bouquets and old-fashioned nosegays, but little potted plants as well.

Cousin Jack had stayed home from business for the day; for, he said, he couldn’t get away from the glories of his bevy of young people.

“Before you go,” he said, as the two carts, with their attendants, were ready to start from his house, “I’ll take a snap-shot of you.”

He brought out his large camera, and took several photographs of the pretty group, which, later, proved to be beautiful pictures, and well worthy of framing.

“Now, go ahead, young peddlers,” he said.  “And whatever you do, remember to charge enough for your wares,—­but don’t charge too much.”

“How shall we know what is just right?” asked Kitty, puckering her brow, as she pondered this knotty question.

“Well, Kit, if you’re in doubt, leave it to the buyers.  They’ll probably give you more that way, than if you set the price yourself.  And especially with flowers.  People always expect to overpay for them at a fair.”

“But I don’t want to cheat the people,” said Kitty.

“Don’t worry about that; they quite expect to pay more than this trumpery is worth, because it’s all for charity.  Now skip along, my hearties!  And come back home if you get tired, no matter whether you’ve sold all your truck or not.  I’ll buy whatever you have left.”

So waving good-byes to the group looking after them, the children pranced gaily down the driveway and out into the street.