in the
neat-herd's cottage;" Nora had been called upon to be the girl blowing
the burnt cakes; she had done it, and everybody had laughed, but the
little lady was not pleased.

"I know I look horrid!" she said to Daisy,--"puffing out my cheeks till
they are like a pair of soapbubbles!"

"But soapbubbles are not that colour," said Daisy. "Your cheeks didn't
look like soapbubbles."

"Yes, they did. They looked horrid, I know."

"But the picture is so," urged Daisy quietly. "You want to be like the
picture."

"No I don't. Not that picture. I would like to be something handsome. I
don't like that picture."

Daisy was silent, and Nora pouted.

"What are you going to be, Daisy?" said Ella Stanfield.

"I am going to be Priscilla. No, I don't know whether I am or not; but I
am going to be Fortitude, I believe."

"That's pretty," said Ella. "What else? O, you are going to be the
angel, aren't you? I wonder if that will be pretty. It will be queer.
Nora, shall you like to be one of the little princes in the Tower? with
that featherbed coming over us? But we shall not see it, I suppose,
because our eyes have got to be shut; but I shall be afraid every minute
they will let it fall on us."

"My eyes won't be shut," said Nora.

"O, they must. You know, the little princes were asleep, when the men
came to kill them. Your eyes must be shut and you must be asleep. O,
what are they doing to Theresa?"

"Dressing her--" said Daisy.

"What is she going to be?"

"Portia--" said Daisy.

"Isn't that beautiful!--" said Nora with a deep breath. "O, what a
splen--did dress! How rich-looking it is. What a lovely purple. O, how
beautiful Theresa is in it. O--! Isn't that splen--did?"

A very prolonged, though low, breath of admiring wonder testified to the
impressive power, upon the children at least, of Theresa's new
habiliments. The purple brocade was upon her; its full draperies swept
the ground in gorgeous colouring; a necklace of cameos was bound with
great effect upon her hair; and on the arms, which were half bare, Mrs.
Sandford was clasping gold and glittering jewels. Theresa threw herself
slightly back in her prescribed attitude, laid her arms lightly across
each other, and turned her head with a very saucy air towards the
companion figure, supposed to be Bassanio. All the others laughed and
clapped her.

"Not that, Theresa, not that; you have got the wrong picture. You are
going with the Prince of Arragon now, to