The person who had opened the door I assumed was the host, for he was waring no costume. He was a short, rather slim man who grinned broadly but said nothing, merely motioned us in with the glass in his hand. He preceded us to the source of the noise, and as we entered the room, I suddenly felt terribly out of place. This was not a masquerade party! All the people I saw were dressed normally, the women in chic cocktail gowns, the men in dark suits.

I stopped, panic-stricken, and Nancy, who still held my arm, stopped with me. Hastily, I pulled her out of the room, and whispered, "What's going on here? I thought you said this was a masquerade party!" “Well, so it is, darling," she said, a coquettish little smile on her face. "But it's a special masquerade party. You see..

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"But they're all dressed just like you and me!" I interrupted her. "That's right . . . exactly like us," said Nancy. "All the girls in there are no more feminine than you are. And all the men . cated the suit she was wearing.

""

she indi-

"You mean . . . this is a party for people who like to dress in each other's clothes?" I said, unbelieving.

"Uh-huh," she said, linking her arm in mine again. "Now let's go meet our fellow transvestites!"

Francene 21-D FPE

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Barbara 5-B-32 FPE