“But Hazel isn’t that kind.  Isn’t that a pretty name?” demanded Cora quickly.  “She has a different sort of brains.  She is a student of nature—­biology and evolution, to be exact.”

“Perhaps she could tell what makes Bess so—­so fat,” suggested Belle with marked sarcasm.

“Or what makes you so thin,” retaliated Bess.

“At any rate, she is a very sweet girl,” declared Cora, “and I’m most anxious for you to meet her.  At the same time I am afraid you will like her a lot better than you do me.”

“Cora Kimball!” exclaimed Bess.  “As if any one could be more likable than you—­to us!”

“Oh, I don’t know,” sighed Cora.  “There’s Jack.”

“Well—­er—­he’s nice—­just because he’s your brother,” replied Bess a bit awkwardly.

“Now for plans,” said Cora suddenly, wishing to change the subject, as it was becoming too personal.  “We must get the cards out to-morrow.  Every one must be masked—­that’s settled—­and we’ll try to confine the characters to—­”

“The Roman period,” interrupted Belle.  “That will make it pretty.”

“I wonder how the boys will take it?” asked Bess.  “I shouldn’t wonder if they all came as gladiators.”

“Or some such character as Nero,” added Belle.

“As long as they don’t try to emulate him on his burning Rome affair,” came from Cora.

“And every one must keep his or her costume a secret,” went on Belle, who was nervous with enthusiasm.  “I am not even going to let Bess know whit mine will be.”

“All right, sister,” replied Bess, glancing at her tiny, enameled watch; “but pray don’t be too—­too spirituelle.  That is, if there were any Roman spirits.”

“There was Roman punch!” laughed Cora merrily.  “I believe I would like to be Roman punch, if it’s not too strong.”

“And served up to—­” began Bess.

“The gentleman with whom she was riding yesterday afternoon,” finished Belle.  “The idea of a young lady going out motoring in a morning dress—­”

“Bareheaded,” chimed in Bess, and a laugh followed.

“Come to think of it, girls,” spoke Cora, making an effort to get back to the party, “I do not think we ought to confine this fete to any particular period.  Suppose some one wants to be—­well, say, Priscilla—­and has been wanting to be Priscilla all her life.”

“That’s right,” agreed Bess.  “It’s just like you, Cora, to think all around a thing.  Yes, I vote for a masked fete.  Any sort of a costume, so long as we are masked.”

Belle also agreed that this would be a better plan than the one first proposed, and then the trio of girls busied themselves over the invitation list.  There was no time to spare, as the “doings” must come off before Mrs. Kimball’s trip to Bermuda, for which she was preparing.

“And you feel you must invite Ida?” asked Bess.  “I am sure she is almost as certain to do something rude as Sid would be.”