rously to argue the question with the
teacher, "and of course the Judge couldn't know that it would interfere
with your plans."

Miss Mary was convinced that the Judge _did_ know, but she didn't quite
dare to argue the question with him. She was conscious that she had
been over-severe, and that the Judge, who believed in justice first,
last, and all the time, would not uphold her.

And so the plans for the party went on.

"We will have games," said Judy, "and we won't have anything old like
'Cinderella.' Has anybody got an idea?"

She and Anne and Launcelot were in the Judge's garden, and it was
Thursday evening, and there wasn't a great deal of time to get ready
for Saturday's festivities.

"We might have some one read poems, and have living pictures to
illustrate them," suggested Anne.

"What poems?" asked Judy, not quite sure that she liked the idea.

"There are some lovely things in Tennyson," said the little girl;
"there's the Sleeping Beauty for one. You could be the Beauty, Judy,
and Launcelot could be the prince--it would be just lovely--we could
have little Jimmie Jones for the page, and Nannie and Amelia for
ladies-in-waiting, and you could be asleep on the couch, while some one
read:

"Year after year unto her feet,
She lying on her couch alone,
Across the purple coverlet,
The maiden's jet-black hair has grown."

Anne quoted with ease, for the little blue and gold volume in her
bookcase had yielded up its treasures to her, and she knew the loved
verses better than she knew her "Mother Goose."

"Oh," Judy's eyes were alight, "how lovely that is--I never read that,
Anne."

"Well, you hate books, you know," and Anne dimpled at her retort.

"I shouldn't hate that kind," and Judy resolved that she would know
more about that princess.

"And we could have the arrival of the prince, and the awakening, and
their departure:

"And o'er the hills and far away,
Beyond their utmost purple rim,
Beyond the night, across the day,
Through all the world she followed him,"

chanted Anne like one inspired.

Then she blushed and blushed as the astonished Launcelot and Judy
praised her.

"I never dreamed that you knew so much poetry," cried Launcelot, seeing
her in a new and more respectful light.

"Oh, it just sings itself," said Anne. "When you read it a few times
you can't help reciting it."

"But I am not going to be the only one," said Judy. "What part will
you take, Anne?"