rhyme with _corbillon_. She had announced that this time the game was
in aid of a cause, and that therefore it must be played with _things_
and not with words only.

"Qu'y met-on, Marie?" repeated Jeanne. "Rappelez-vous bien que c'est
une quête à l'intention des petites filles polonaises internées au
camp de Havelberg!" What, Marie had nothing but her chain necklace,
and that did not end in _on?_ No, but the links of the chain did,
argued Jeanne. "Donne _des chaînons!_" she prompted in a whisper. "J'y
mets des chaînons," said Marie in Jeanne's thinnest voice, and the
necklace found its way into the basket.

"_Je vous tends mon corbillon: qu'y met-on?_ À vous, Marthe. Ô,"
exclaimed Jeanne, "tu y mets ton _chignon?_ Eh bien, tu sais, n'est-ce
pas, bêta, qu'il faut que tu t'y mettes avec!" and into the basket she
went after a lingering caress from Jeanne.

_"Je vous tends mon corbillon: qu'y met-on?"_ It was the turn now of
Yvonne in her bed. "Comment," said Jeanne, affecting indignation, "si
tu n'étais pas si frileuse tu donnerais ton édredon?" And what about
the little _poupées polonaises internées_, snatched from their beds
and carried off without any bedclothes at all, let alone an eiderdown!
Presently, "J'y mets mon édredon," Yvonne was understood to say, and
"Sage!" approved Jeanne.

_"Je vous tends mon corbillon: qu'y met-on?_ Jacques, mon pauvre ami,
tu n'as pas de chance, hein?" There was no help for it; it was the
only thing he had that rhymed. "Imagine la joie des petites polonaises
internées!" she urged, taking the necessary action. "J'y mets mon
pantalon," piped a disconsolate little thread of voice.