e said her clothes were put on that way
to help the charm. Isn't she a _ninny_?"

Just at that moment, before Nancy could reply, Mrs. Tiverton called
Jack, and Nancy ran to tell the story of Arabella's latest freak to
Dorothy.

* * * * *

One afternoon, a number of little girls were sitting on the piazza at
the Cleverton, and their merry voices attracted Jack Tiverton, who
glanced up from the book that he was reading, and then, because he was
curious to know what so interested them, crossed the piazza, and joined
the group.

Dorothy and Nancy, in the big hammock, held the book of fairy tales,
Flossie Barnet sat near them, while the others, all little guests at the
hotel, sat upon the railing, or in the large rockers that stood near.

Jack joined the row perched upon the railing.

"Tell a fellow what you are all talking about, will you? Will you,
_please_, I mean?" he asked.

"Dorothy Dainty has been reading us a lovely story," said a little girl,
whose merry eyes showed that she had enjoyed it.

"What's it about?" Jack asked, and then, "Oh, _fairy_ tales!" he said.

"Don't you like fairy tales?" Flossie questioned, looking up at him.

No one liked to differ with dear little Flossie, least of all, Jack
Tiverton.

"Oh, I like them _some_," he said, awkwardly, "but,--are there any
stories about bandits or pirates in that book?"

"Oh, no," they cried, in a laughing chorus, "and there aren't any wild
Indians in it, either."

"I don't care much about Indian stories," Jack replied, "but I do like
to read about pirates."

"But just hear what this one was about," said Nancy.

"The wandering prince had, for years, been searching for a lovely
princess, who should look like a beautiful picture that hung in his
father's palace. One day he came to a castle where the people told him a
handsome princess was imprisoned, and he asked why she was kept there.
They told him that she was enchanted, and that some day, a wandering
prince would sing beneath her window, and then the spell would be
broken, and she would be free."

Jack was interested.

"But s'posing he couldn't sing?" he asked.

"Oh, a prince could surely sing!" said Flossie.

"And p'raps he could sing under her window, if he couldn't anywhere
else," ventured a dreamy-eyed little girl who sat near Dorothy.

"And how would he know _what_ to sing?" a cheery voice questioned, and a
pair of merry eyes peered over the piazza rai