the Forest of Arden, I was sure to meet
pleasant people, and I have." Rosalind looked at her companions with a
soft light in her gray eyes.

"If it were not for you, we shouldn't be having half so much fun," said
Belle, promptly.

"I think you would always have a good time, Belle," answered Rosalind;
"but I'm afraid if I hadn't come to know all of you, I couldn't have
stayed in the Forest much longer, though the magician did cheer me up."

"Then the idea is, that it is only when you stay in the Forest that you
find the good in things?" said Allan.

"That was the way in the story. Everything came right in the Forest,"
Rosalind answered.

"I believe," said Allan, "I should like to be an Arden Forester."

This announcement was received with enthusiasm.

"That is, if I understand it. 'To remember the Forest secret, to bear hard
things bravely--'"

"And if you are an honorary member, like Miss Celia and Morgan, you won't
have to search for the ring," put in Belle.

"The ring is found, and is waiting till the magician breaks the spell. You
know, Uncle Allan, he has hung it on a nail in his shop, by the door, just
as if he were trying really," Rosalind explained.

"I think I shall ask to be taken on probation," Mr. Whittredge continued.

"What's that?" asked Jack.

"On trial. I might not do you credit, you know."

The Arden Foresters refused to admit the possibility of this, and Belle
and Rosalind began delightedly to enumerate their members.

They rowed homeward slowly, for it was up stream, and as they went they
unwound the clover chain, and let it trail far behind them until it caught
among the reeds and was broken.

When they passed the Gilpin place, on their way from the landing, a stop
was made for a fresh supply of oak leaves from their favorite tree, and
Rosalind pinned one on her uncle's coat.

"I invite the Arden Foresters to meet with me to-morrow under the
greenwood tree," said Mr. Whittredge, surveying his badge.

"That's poetry, go on," said Jack.

"I'll have to fall back into prose to finish. At the foot of Red Hill, at
half-past seven P.M."

"What tree does he mean?" asked Katherine.

"Under the greenwood tree is a poetical figure," Mr. Whittredge explained.

"It will be dark at half-past seven," said Jack.

"Of course it will be, and that's going to be the fun," cried Belle.

"There will be a moon," added Maurice, who was wise in such matters.

"And what are we to do there?" asked