“A pair of silk stockings, that pretty carved fan, and a lovely blue sash.  I wanted the violet silk, but there isn’t time to make it over, so I must be contented with my old tarlaton.”

“It will look nice over my new muslin skirt, and the sash will set it off beautifully.  I wish I hadn’t smashed my coral bracelet, for you might have had it,” said Jo, who loved to give and lend, but whose possessions were usually too dilapidated to be of much use.

“There is a lovely old-fashioned pearl set in the treasure chest, but Mother said real flowers were the prettiest ornament for a young girl, and Laurie promised to send me all I want,” replied Meg.  “Now, let me see, there’s my new gray walking suit, just curl up the feather in my hat, Beth, then my poplin for Sunday and the small party, it looks heavy for spring, doesn’t it?  The violet silk would be so nice.  Oh, dear!”

“Never mind, you’ve got the tarlaton for the big party, and you always look like an angel in white,” said Amy, brooding over the little store of finery in which her soul delighted.

“It isn’t low-necked, and it doesn’t sweep enough, but it will have to do.  My blue housedress looks so well, turned and freshly trimmed, that I feel as if I’d got a new one.  My silk sacque isn’t a bit the fashion, and my bonnet doesn’t look like Sallie’s.  I didn’t like to say anything, but I was sadly disappointed in my umbrella.  I told Mother black with a white handle, but she forgot and bought a green one with a yellowish handle.  It’s strong and neat, so I ought not to complain, but I know I shall feel ashamed of it beside Annie’s silk one with a gold top,” sighed Meg, surveying the little umbrella with great disfavor.

“Change it,” advised Jo.

“I won’t be so silly, or hurt Marmee’s feelings, when she took so much pains to get my things.  It’s a nonsensical notion of mine, and I’m not going to give up to it.  My silk stockings and two pairs of new gloves are my comfort.  You are a dear to lend me yours, Jo.  I feel so rich and sort of elegant, with two new pairs, and the old ones cleaned up for common.”  And Meg took a refreshing peep at her glove box.

“Annie Moffat has blue and pink bows on her nightcaps.  Would you put some on mine?” she asked, as Beth brought up a pile of snowy muslins, fresh from Hannah’s hands.

“No, I wouldn’t, for the smart caps won’t match the plain gowns without any trimming on them.  Poor folks shouldn’t rig,” said Jo decidedly.

“I wonder if I shall ever be happy enough to have real lace on my clothes and bows on my caps?” said Meg impatiently.

“You said the other day that you’d be perfectly happy if you could only go to Annie Moffat’s,” observed Beth in her quiet way.

“So I did!  Well, I am happy, and I won’t fret, but it does seem as if the more one gets the more one wants, doesn’t it?  There now, the trays are ready, and everything in but my ball dress, which I shall leave for Mother to pack,” said Meg, cheering up, as she glanced from the half-filled trunk to the many times pressed and mended white tarlaton, which she called her ‘ball dress’ with an important air.