a Reynolds'
painting; then she put a boy's cap, turned the wrong way, on her head,
to do duty for a helmet, and fixed a nodding plume of feathers in it.
Daisy then was placed in the attitude of the picture, and the whole
little assembly shouted with delight.

"It will do, Mrs. Sandford," said Preston.

"Isn't it pretty?" said the lady.

"And Daisy does it admirably," said Theresa. "You are a fairy at
dressing, Mrs. Sandford; your fingers are better than a fairy's wand. I
wish you were my godmother; I shouldn't despair to ride yet in a coach
and six. There are plenty of pumpkins in a field near our house--and
plenty of rats in the house itself. O, Mrs. Sandford! let us have
Cinderella!"

"What, for a tableau?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You must ask the manager. I do not know anything about that."

Preston and Theresa and Hamilton and Alexander now went into an eager
discussion of this question, and before it was settled the party
discovered that it was time to break up.

CHAPTER XV.

"Well Daisy," said Mr. Randolph that evening, "how do you like your new
play that you are all so busy about?"

"I like it pretty well, papa."

"Only pretty well! Is that the most you can say of it? I understood that
it was supposed to be an amusement of a much more positive character."

"Papa, it is amusing--but it has its disagreeablenesses."

"Has it? What can they be? Or has everything pleasant its dark side?"

"I don't know, papa."

"What makes the shadows in this instance?"

It seemed not just easy for Daisy to tell, for her father saw that she
looked puzzled how to answer.

"Papa, I think it is because people do not behave perfectly well."

It was quite impossible for Mr. Randolph to help bursting into a laugh
at this; but he put his arms round Daisy and kissed her very
affectionately at the same time.

"How does their ill behaviour affect your pleasure, Daisy?"

"Papa--you know I have to play with them."

"Yes, I understand that. What do they do?"

"It isn't _they_, papa. It is only Alexander Fish--or at least it is he
most."

"What does _he_ do?"

"Papa--we are in a tableau together."

"Yes. You and he?"

"Yes, papa. And it is very disagreeable."

"Pray how, Daisy?" said Mr. Randolph, commanding his features with some
difficulty. "What is the tableau?"

"Papa, you know the story of Priscilla?"

"I do not think I do. What Priscilla?"

"Priscilla and John Alden. It is in a book of engravings."