“Goody!” exclaimed Bess, helping herself to some more of the chocolates.  “Make it a lawn party.”

“Well, that’s just what I want you to help me with.  I know that Belle will want to make it a seance with relaxed robes and collapsed masks and relapsed—­”

“Oh, you’re mean!” exclaimed the taunted one.  “I’m not such a freak as that.”

“Oh, no,” drawled Bess.

“Cer-tain-ly not,” added Cora in a teasing tone.

“Well, go on with your `doings,’” insisted Belle.  “I won’t make a single suggestion.”

“Not make them; but veto them,” persisted Cora.  “Well, then, never mind, sissy.  You sometimes have splendid ideas, even if they are all sterilized.”

“And when they are disclosed the sterilization gets away,” put in Bess.  “That’s what mother’s nurse declared when we tried on those aprons that come in air-tight packages.  But now, Cora, let’s have a lawn party.”

“Wouldn’t it be nicer to have an out-door play?” asked Belle, who had forgotten her resolution not to make a suggestion.

“Oh, dear!  I suppose we’ll have to have it in the afternoon, when our nurses can be with us,” said Bess.  “We’re supposed to be such kiddies—­not out yet, and all that.  It’s detestable—­”

“Indeed,” interrupted Cora, “mother says I may have an evening affair, and also out of doors, if I like.  Since my last birthday I’ve been wonderfully grown up.”

“Out of doors!  And after dark!” cried Bess.  “That’s great!” and she clapped her hands.  “Oh, let’s have it a masked affair.  I never have been to one in all my life, and I’m just dying to mask!”

“Now, girls, let’s be serious,” suggested Cora, “for I haven’t any too much time to arrange this affair.  We ought to have it in June, when we can depend on having a pleasant evening.  Suppose we plan a masked mythology fete?  Have a dark, green cavern, presided over by:  er—­um—­let’s see—­who was the gentleman who had charge of passing shades from earth to some place, and where did he pass ’em to?”

“You mean Charon,” said Belle.  “But, Cora Kimball, do you suppose we could make mythological frocks that would stand damp, night air?  Of course, they would be comfortable.”

“Oh, we’ll manage somehow.  At any rate, we’ll have a masked ‘doin’,’ that’s settled.”

“That’s all that really counts,” said Bess.

“Masks?” questioned Cora.  “Just mask in order to be of some account?  Not the blessed boys, and the jealous girls—­and the chances of pretending you mistake Jack for Walter—­and you say a lot of things you are just dying to say, and would not dare to say if you weren’t masked.  All that—­But hush!  Here comes Jack!”

“Hello, girls,” greeted her brother, and at the sight of Jack, Bess and Belle adjusted themselves in more conventional attitudes.  “How are you all?” he went on.  “Sis, here’s a letter for you.  I kept it in my hand all the way from the post-office so as not to forget to give it to you.”