might have thought Bell's patched-up dress a sorry mixture; yet these
three brilliant stars in the theatrical firmament might have envied
this little Rosalind the dewy youth and freshness that so triumphed
over all deficiencies of costume.

Margery's camping-dress of grey, shortened to the knee, served for
its basis. Round the skirt and belt and sleeves were broad bands of
laurel-leaf trimming. She wore a pair of Margery's long grey
stockings and Laura's dainty bronze Newport ties. A soft grey chudda
shawl of Aunt Truth's was folded into a mantle to swing from the
shoulder, its fringes being caught up out of sight, and a laurel-leaf
trimming added. On her bright wavy hair was perched a cunning flat
cap of leaves, and, as she entered with Polly, leaning on her
manzanita staff, and sighing, 'Oh Jupiter, how weary are my spirits!'
one could not wish a lovelier stage picture.

And so the play went on, with varying fortunes. Margery was
frightened to death, and persisted in taking Touchstone's speeches
right out of his mouth, much to his discomfiture. Adam's beard
refused to stay on; so did the moustache of the Banished Duke, and
the clothes of Sylvius. But nothing could damp the dramatic fire of
the players, nor destroy the enthusiasm of the sympathetic audience.

Dicky sat in the dress-circle, wrapped in blankets, and laughed
himself nearly into convulsions over Touchstone's jokes, and the
stage business of the Banished Duke; for it is unnecessary to state
that Jack was not strictly Shakespearean in his treatment of the
part.

As for Polly, she enjoyed being Celia with all her might, and