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remove the excess lipstick. She stood back and surveyed me carefully to observe the over-all effect. At length, she smiled in satisfaction. Timidly, I looked toward Mrs. Vickers and Dora and was startled to see a look of awe on their faces. All of this had occurred with my wig resting on the dresser and picking it up, Dora fitted it carefully over my head. She looked at me speculatively, then shook her head, looking at Barbara and observing her long, loose hair which hung down to her shoulders in thick waves in methodical, orderly looseness, said,

~

"No, I don't think the hair is right. Do you, Barbara dear?"| "No, mother. He I mean, she, should either have hair like mine or else the short curls such as Betty and Diane wear. What about that blonde wig I used for that masquerade last year? I still hafe it."

"That's just the thing, Run and get it quickly. "Barbara darted out while I sat as quietly as a mouse. Swallowing painfully, I sat for what seemed an hour but was actually only ten minutes, until Barbara returned, holding in her hands a long blonde wig of beautifully waved strands of real hair. She walked to me, fitted it over my head carefully, adjusted it tightly and then Mrs. Vickers reached over to the dresser and opening a drawer, removed a little bottle.

"Here, take it off again and put some of this mucilage around his forehead and temples so that the wig will not come off or get loose."

This was done and when it was put in place on my head again, Barbara fluffed it out at the back, gently patted the curls into place at my ears and then tied a blue ribbon in the yellow strands of hair just back of the middle of my head. Dora pulled me to my feet and the three feminine Maratres, or "Cruel Stepmothers" as they say in French, studied me with amusement in their eyes. But, mixed with the laughter, I could also detect something else, a sort of awe, that made me anxious to look at myself more closely to see what it was that caused this strange attitude. I had no chance for this,