n arm, collected in little groups,
or danced gayly together to the music of the eight-piece Overton
orchestra, whose members appeared to appreciate the humor of the
occasion as keenly as did the faculty.

It was an inspiring sight to watch "Hamlet" parading calmly about the
gymnasium with "Beverly of Graustark," or to watch "Mrs. Wiggs of the
Cabbage Patch" waltz merrily off with "Rip Van Winkle." Every one
immediately recognized "The Bow of Orange Ribbon" and "Robinson Crusoe."
Meek little Oliver Twist, with his big porridge bowl decorated by a wide
white band bearing the legend, "I want some more," was also easy to
guess. So were "Evangeline," "Carmen," "The Little Lame Prince,"
"Ivanhoe," "Janice Meredith," and scores of other book ladies and
gentlemen.

There were a few masqueraders, however, whose fictitious identity was
shrouded in mystery. No one could fathom the significance of a certain
tall figure, dressed in rags, who stopped short in her tracks at
frequent intervals, and, producing a needle and thread, sewed
industriously at her tattered garments. A black-robed sister of charity,
accompanied by a strange figure who wore a shapeless garment painted in
dull gray squares to represent stone, and wearing a narrow leather belt
about its waist from which was suspended on either side two small
andirons, were also sources of speculative curiosity. So was a young
woman in white with a towering headdress composed of a combination of
the Stars and Stripes and the flag of France. And no one had the
remotest idea concerning the eight white figures who marched four
abreast and would not condescend to break ranks even to dance.

"Sherlock Holmes" was there with his violin tucked under one arm and a
volume of his memoirs under the other. He evinced a strong preference
for the society of "Joan of Arc," while "Sarah Crewe," "Little Lord
Fauntleroy," and "Rebecca of Sunnybrook" traveled about together, a
seemingly contented trio. "The Three Musketeers" were gorgeous to behold
in their square-cut costumes, high boots and wide feathered hats, but
the sensation of the evening was "Peter Rabbit," who came to the dance
attired in his little blue, brass-buttoned jacket, brown khaki
pantaloons and what seemed to be the identical shoes he lost in Mr.
McGregor's garden. His mask was a cunning rabbit's head that was drawn
down and fastened at the neck by a funny soft tie. Who "Peter Rabbit"
was and where he had managed to lay hands on