and the proceeds were to go to a local charity.

On the night of the play the Hall was packed, and Mrs. de Vere Carter
was in a flutter of excitement and importance.

"Yes, the dear children are splendid, and they look _beautiful_! We've
all worked so _hard_. Yes, entirely my own composition. I only hope
that William Brown won't _murder_ my poetry as he does at rehearsals."

The curtain went up.

The scene was a wood, as was evident from a few small branches of
trees placed here and there at intervals on the stage.

Joan, in a white dress and red cloak, entered and began to speak,
quickly and breathlessly, stressing every word with impartial
regularity.

"A little maid am I--Red Riding-Hood.
My journey lies along this dark, thick wood.
Within my basket is a little jar
Of jam--a present for my grand-mamma."

Then Cuthbert entered--a Prince in white satin with a blue sash. There
was a rapt murmur of admiration in the audience as he made his
appearance.

William waited impatiently and uneasily behind the scenes. His wolf's
head was very hot. One of the eye-holes was beyond his range of
vision; through the other he had a somewhat prescribed view of what