e were soon good
friends and looking for the best places along the campus to see the
sights, while Molly rushed off to attire herself for the morning as a
Maypole dancer. Old Wellington presented a strange and unusual aspect on
that beautiful May morning. Far back under the trees gathered the people
of the pageant waiting for the cue to start the march. Carts drawn by
yokes of oxen rumbled along the avenue, filled with rustics from the
country, mostly freshmen dressed in all manner of early English
costumes. There were shepherds and shepherdesses, maids of low and high
degree. Gentlemen of the court and plow boys in smock frocks elbowed
each other on the green. Booths had been set up of a seventeenth century
pattern, where anachronisms in the form of modern refreshments were
sold.

Bands of singers and rustic dancers trooped by, jesters in cap and
bells, page boys and trumpeters. A more animated and brilliantly colored
scene would be difficult to imagine.

Providence had smiled on Wellington's Jubilee and sent a glorious day
for the May Day Festival. It was an early spring and everything that
could do honor to the day had burst into blossom: daffodils that
bordered the lawns of the campus houses nodded their delicate yellow
heads in the morning sunlight; clumps of lilac bushes formed bouquets of
purple and white and from an occasional old apple tree showers of pink
petals fell softly on the grass.

"It's almost as beautiful as Kentucky, Kent," observed Mildred Brown,
and Jimmy Lufton laughed joyfully.

"Almost, but not quite," he said. "In Kentucky there would be twice as
much of everything, and, besides the elms, there would be beech trees
and maples with a good sprinkling of walnut and locust."

"Twice as many Mildreds, too," observed Kent. "But for my part I think
the young ladies I have seen here are quite as pretty as the girls at
home."

"I think you'd have a hard time finding two to match Miss Molly and Miss
Mildred," put in Jimmy, looking with admiration at the charming Mildred,
dressed in a cool white linen, a broad brimmed straw hat trimmed with
pink roses shading her face.

"There's Miss Judy Kean," argued Kent.

What would this young man have thought if at that moment he could have
had a glimpse of the fair Judy dressed as a court gentleman in lavender
satin knickers, a long cape of purple velvet, an immense cavalier hat
with a great plume and over her shapely mouth a flaring yellow
mustachio?