cryptically, "Mrs. Willamette in a Cleopatra nightie--what sport! And
besides, I should make a magnificent Egyptian. Magnificent." He yawned
immensely. "In the first place, of course, I should paint myself a
brilliant orange--"

The Egyptians. An odd wonder rose in Ted--a wonder as to whether one of
those stripped and hook-nosed slaves of the bondage before Moses had ever
happened to stand up for a moment to wipe the sweat out of his eyes before
he bent again to his task of making bricks without straw and seen a
princess of the Egyptians carried along past the quarries.

"Tell us a story, El," from Oliver in the voice of one who is
sleep-walking. "A nice quiet story--the Three Bears or Giant the Jack
Killer--oh heaven, I _must_ be asleep--but you know, anything like that--"

"You really want a story?" Elinor's voice was reticently mocking. "A story
for good little boys?"

"Oh, _yes!_" from Peter, his clasped hands stretched toward her in an
attitude of absurd supplication. "All in nice little words of one syllable
or we won't understand."

"Well, once there were three little girls named Elsie, Lacie and Tillie and
they lived in the bottom of a well."



[ILLUSTRATION: "WELL, ONCE THERE WERE THREE LITTLE GIRLS"] "What _kind_ of
a well?" Oliver had caught the cue at once.