in Nassau. I think a ripping
big one would be the very thing."

"Babe!" said Babbie scornfully. "Imagine how a turtle would look among
her wedding presents."

"I think it would look stunning," persisted Babe, "and it would be so
appropriate from us."

"Don't be dictatorial, Babe," advised Rachel. "It isn't seemly in a
president. Perhaps your committee can think of something appropriate
that won't be quite so startling as a turtle. When is the wedding,
Betty?"

"The thirty-first of December at half-past eight," explained Betty.

"New Year's eve--what a nice, poetical time," interposed Babbie,
thoughtfully. "I think that if I ever marry----"

"Hush, Babbie," commanded Nita. "You probably never will. Do let Betty
finish her story."

"Well, it's to be a very small wedding," went on Betty, hastily, "with
no cards, but announcements, but Ethel wrote me herself and she wants us
all--the Nassau ones, I mean--and Mary Brooks, to come."

"Jolly for Miss Hale!" cried Bob, tossing up two pillows this time.

"How perfectly dear of her!" said Babbie.

"The biggest turtle we can get won't be a bit too good for her,"
declared Babe.

"But where could we stay over night?" asked Helen, the practical-minded.

"You don't give me a chance to tell you the whole of anything,"
complained Betty, sadly. "We're invited guests--specially invited, I
mean, and it's all arranged where we are to stay. Ethel is going to have
her sister and four bridesmaids to walk with her, and she wants us girls
to hold a laurel rope along the line of march of the wedding-party, as
they go through the rooms."

"Jolly," began Babe, but she was promptly suppressed by Madeline, who
tumbled her flat on her back and held her down with a pillow while she
ordered Betty to proceed.

"I'll read you what else she says," went on Betty, triumphantly
producing Miss Hale's letter. "She says, 'There won't be many people to
get in the way of the procession, but the aisle effect will be pretty,
and besides I want my match-makers to have a part in the grand
denouement of all their efforts. Will you ask the others and write Mary
Brooks, whose address I don't know. My uncle's big house next door to
us will have room for you all, and you must come in time for my
bridesmaids' luncheon and a little dance, both on the thirtieth.' Now
isn't that splendid?"

"Perfectly splendid," echoed her auditors.

"Why, we shall be almost bridesmaids," said Roberta Lewis in awestruck
t