e no
good--evening dresses, and things like that. But there were enough
useful things to go round. Oswald, in white shirt and flannel
knee-breeches, tied a brick-coloured silk scarf round his middle part,
and a green one round his head for a turban. The turban was fastened
with a sparkling brooch with pink stones in it. He looked like a Moorish
toreador. Dicky had the scarlet and gold coat, which was the right
length when Dora had run a tuck in it.

Alice had a blue skirt with embroidery of peacock's feathers on it, and
a gold and black jacket very short with no sleeves, and a yellow silk
handkerchief on her head like Italian peasants, and another handkie
round her neck. Dora's skirt was green and her handkerchiefs purple and
pink.

Noel insisted on having his two scarves, one green and one yellow,
twisted on his legs like putties, and a red scarf wound round his
middle-part, and he stuck a long ostrich feather in his own bicycle cap
and said he was a troubadour bard.

H.O. was able to wear a lady's blouse of mouse-coloured silk,
embroidered with poppies. It came down to his knees and a jewelled belt
kept it in place.

We made up our costumes into bundles, and Alice thoughtfully bought a
pennyworth of pins. Of course it was idle to suppose that we could go
through the village in our gipsy clothes without exciting _some_ remark.

The more we thought of it the more it seemed as if it would be a good
thing to get some way from our village before we began our gipsy career.

The woman at the sweet shop where Alice got the pins has a donkey and
cart, and for two shillings she consented to lend us this, so that some
of us could walk while some of us would always be resting in the cart.

And next morning the weather was bright and blue as ever, and we
started. We were beautifully clean, but all our hairs had been arranged
with the brush solely, because at the last moment nobody could find it's
comb. Mrs. Beale had packed up a jolly sandwichy and apply lunch for us.
We told her we were going to gather bluebells in the woods, and of
course we meant to do that too.

The donkey-cart drew up at the door and we started. It was found
impossible to get every one into the cart at once, so we agreed to cast
lots for who should run behind, and to take it in turns, mile and mile.
The lot fell on Dora and H.O., but there was precious little running
about it. Anything slower than that donkey Oswald has never known, and
when it came