"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