asked Pris, anxiously.

"Yes, I do, and I'll tell you how I mean to get it. I've planned
everything; for, though I hardly dreamed of going, I amused myself by
thinking how I could manage if I _did_ get invited."

"Let us hear." And Pris took up her work with an air of resignation.

"First, my dress," began Kitty, perching herself on the arm of the
sofa, and entering into the subject with enthusiasm. "I've got the ten
dollars grandpa sent me, and with eight of it I'm going to buy
Lizzie King's organdie muslin. She got it in Paris; but her aunt
providentially--no, unfortunately--died; so she can't wear it, and
wants to get rid of it. She is bigger than I am, you know; so there is
enough for a little mantle or sacque, for it isn't made up. The skirt
is cut off and gored, with a splendid train--"

"My dear, you don't mean you are going to wear one of those absurd,
new-fashioned dresses?" exclaimed Pris, lifting hands and eyes.

"I do! Nothing would induce me to go to Class Day without a train.
It's been the desire of my heart to have one, and now I _will_, if
I never have another gown to my back!" returned Kitty, with immense
decision.

Pris shook her head, and said, "Go on!" as if prepared for any
extravagance after that.

"We can make it ourselves," continued Kitty, "and trim it with the
same. It's white with blue stripes and daisies in the stripes; the