So the chief dragon led up blushing Polly to the front of the stage, to
hear a neat little speech from Mr. Alstyne, thanking them for the
pleasure of the evening and congratulating them on its success; and the
band played again, the camp chairs were folded up and removed, the
green-room and stage were deserted, and actors and audience mingled in a
gay, confusing throng.

Phronsie, in her little silver and white gown and gleaming cap, began to
wander among the guests, unconscious that she had not on the red
cashmere dress she had worn all day. Groups stopped their conversation
to take her into their midst, passing her on at last as one might hand
over a precious parcel to the next waiting hands. Polly, seeing that she
was well cared for, gave herself up to the enjoyment of the evening.

"Well, sir, how did you like it?" asked Jasper, with a small pat on
Joel's back.

"Well enough," said Joel, "but why didn't you make more of it? You could
have crawled up on top of the cave, and slashed around there; and you
old dragons were just three muffs in the last act. I'd rather have had
Polly in the play; she's twice the go in her.

"So would we all have preferred Polly," cried Jasper, bursting into a
laugh, "but she wouldn't act--she directed everything; she was all the
play, in fact."

Polly meanwhile was saying to Pickering Dodge, "No, not to-night; you
must dance with one of the other girls."

"But I don't choose to dance with anybody but you," said Pickering,