"Will you, auntie? Well, there, I never went to such a place in my life,
only once; and then Percy Eastman, he just cried 'Fire!' and I broke the
saucer all to pieces."

"I've been to it a great many times," said Fly, catching part of Dotty's
meaning; "my mamma bakes 'em in a freezer."

At nine o'clock the party of five started out to see New York. Aunt
Madge and Horace walked first, with Flyaway between them. "We are going
out to take our _airs_," said the little one.

"I don't think you need any more," said Horace, looking fondly at his
pretty sister. "You're so airy now, it's as much as we can do to keep
your feet on the ground."

Flyaway wore a blue silk bonnet, with white lace around the face, a blue
dress and cloak, and pretty furs with a squirrel's head on the muff. She
had never been dressed so well before, and she knew it. She remembered
hearing "Phibby" say to "Tinka," "Don't that child look like an angel?"
Fly was sure she did, for big folks like Tinka must know. But here her
thoughts grew misty. All the angels she had ever heard of were brother
Harry and "the Charlie boy." How could she look like them?

"Does God dress 'em in a cloak and bonnet, you s'pose?" asked she of her
own thoughts.

Prudy and Dotty Dimple wore frocks of black and red plaid, white
cloaks, and black hats with scarlet feathers. Horace was satisfied that
a finer group of children could not be found in the city.