invitation to be extended to any mistresses and seniors who would
care to join the party. It was quite a long time since the hostel had
had any particularly exciting doings, so that the girls flung themselves
into their preparation with much enthusiasm. Those who were lucky enough
already to possess fancy costumes, or who were able to borrow them, of
course scored, and the rest set to work to manufacture anything that
came to hand. It was to be in the nature of an impromptu affair, but a
few days' notice was given, and the girls were able to devote a Saturday
to the all-absorbing problem. Ingred, home for the week-end, enlisted
the help of Mother and Quenrede, and turned the bungalow almost upside
down in her quest for suitable accessories. She thought of a number of
characters she would have liked to impersonate, but was always balked by
the lack of some vital article of dress.

"It's no use!" she lamented. "I can't be 'Joan of Arc' without a suit of
armor, or 'Queen Elizabeth' when I haven't a flowered velvet robe! I'm
so tired of all the old things! It's too stale to twist some roses in my
hair for 'Summer,' and I've been a gipsy so often that everybody knows
my red handkerchief and gilt beads. I'd as soon be a Red Indian squaw!"

"And why shouldn't you be?" asked Quenrede. "It's a remarkably pretty
costume."

"Oh, I dare say, if I could beg, borrow, or steal it!"

"You've no need to do either, my dear. I've had a brain-wave, and we'll
fix it up for you at home. Yes, I mean it! Allow me to introduce myself:
'Miss Quenrede Saxon, Court Costumier. The very latest theatrical
productions.' I'll make you look so that your own mother will hardly
know you!"

"I'd like to puzzle them!" rejoiced Ingred. "Miss Burd said she should
have a parade, and hinted something about a prize. They always give
points to whoever has the best disguise. Masks are barred, but we may
paint our faces. I think I shall be rather choice as a squaw!"

"You ought to have me with you as your 'brave'!" chuckled Hereward.

"It's a 'Ladies Only' dance, so you can't be invited, my boy! There
won't be a solitary masculine individual present--even the gardener will
have gone home."

"You bet folks will peep in!"

"No, they won't. The premises are strictly private."

Quenrede was in some respects a clever and ingenious little person. She
was not much good at ordinary dressmaking, where fashion must be
followed, but she displayed great originality