her glowing face was turned first to one window and then to the other,
that she might not lose anything as the train rumbled on.

"Just wait till we get to Marken," broke in Jasper, gaily, "then if you
want to see the Dutch beat the Dutch--well, you may!" he ended with a
laugh.

"Oh, Jasper, do they really beat each other?" cried Phronsie, quite
horrified, and slipping away from Grandpapa to regard him closely.

"Oh, no! I mean--they go ahead of everything that is most Dutch,"
Jasper hastened to say; "I haven't explained it very well."

"No, I should think not," laughed his father, in high good humour.
"Well, Phronsie, I think you will like the folks on the Island of
Marken, for they dress in funny quaint costumes, just as their
ancestors did, years upon years ago."

"Are there any little children there?" asked Phronsie, slipping back
into her place again, and nestling close to his side.

"Hundreds of them, I suppose," replied Mr. King, with his arm around
her and drawing her up to him, "and they wear wooden shoes or sabots,
or klompen as they call them, and--"

"Wooden shoes!" cried Phronsie; "oh, Grandpapa," clasping her hands,
"how do they stay on?"

"Well, that's what I've always wondered myself when I've been in
Holland. A good many have left off the sabots, I believe, and wear