clothes and make-up.”

"It's not all that much of a picnic, sweetheart. I worked all morning getting ready, and now I have to clean up all this mess here and in the dining room and kitchen, set the table again and get dinner while you can get out of my things and into your own comfortable clothes. It isn't fair." Then suddenly she paused a moment and then with a crafty look she said, "Say, I have an idea." Her tone turned firmer. "Since you seem to like your woman's role so much, why don't you clean up the downstairs and get dinner, and I'll get into something more comfortable and relax. In fact, the more I think about it, the better I think the idea is. It's about time that you learned to appreciate that we work hard, too. You can either do my chores and stay in those clothes till bedtime, or else you'll find your bed very lonesome for the next two weeks, if you know what I mean!"

My heart jumped at the idea, but I was sure that opposition was more likely to strengthen her will than acquiescence. So reluctantly I feigned resistance, saying “Oh, come on, darling, have a heart.'

"No, that is an ultimatum." she said firmly. "Take your choice."

"O.K., you win. But I think you're a rat.”

She laughed, and, getting to her feet, said, "Probably I am, but ta-ta, Miss Frieda. There are some lamb chops in the refrigerator for dinner." With that, she went out and upstairs.

Ecstatic, I began to put away the cards, tables, and chairs, and take dirty ash-trays and glasses to the kitchen. There, I slipped off my jacket and bracelets, and tied a flowered apron around my waist. With utter delight, I moved from dining room, to dishwasher, got out the chops, a vegetable and potatoes, and busied myself in the feminine chores while being ever conscious of my hair, heels and skirt. Several times I took a detour through the hall, where I could pause for a moment and take a loving glance in the half-length mirror there.

After a while, Mary came into the kitchen, clad in a pullover sweater, stretch pants, and flat shoes. "Well, Frieda, how is it