"Lucky you don't have to curl your hair, Doro, for the fog is like rain,
and that's the worst kind for made curls," said Tavia.

"Oh, I do hope it is not going to rain!"

"No, it surely won't. But come, don't let's be late."

"There's heaps of time, Tavia. Oh, just see Briggs' new flag! Isn't it
glorious?" cried Dorothy Dale.

"Not half as glorious as your old Betsy Ross. I'd be too proud to march
if I had a real, truly Betsy. I think, anyway, it's prettier with the
star of stars than with the regular daisy field of them," and Tavia tied
her scarf just once more, that being the fourth time she had smoothed it
out and knotted it over.

"I think red, white and blue look lovely over a white dress," commented
Dorothy. "Your scarf is perfect."

"But you are like a live Columbia," insisted Tavia. "No one could look
as pretty as you," and her companion fairly beamed with admiration.

"Come now, gather up the stuffs. Button your cloak all the way down, for
we don't want folks to see how we're dressed," and Dorothy made sure
that her own water-proof covered her skirts to the very edge.

It was Decoration Day, and the girls were to take part in the Veterans'
procession.