I don't want to do it all."

"Daisy will have to be her namesake, of course," said Tennessee.

"Jersey can be a mosquito," said Old New York; "she's just the
figure for it."

"Thank you!" said Jersey, who weighed ninety pounds. "Going on that
theory, Pennsylvania ought to go as an elephant, and Rhode Island as
a giraffe."

"And Chicago as a snake--no! I didn't mean that!" cried Maine.

"You said it! you said it!" cried several voices, in triumph.

"The Charitable Organ has called names at last!" said Jersey,
laughing. "And she has hit it exactly. Now, Maine, what is the use
of looking pained? the girl _is_ a snake--or a sneak, which amounts
to the same thing. Let us have truth, I say, at all hazards."

"I am sorry!" said Maine, simply. "I am not fond of Chicago, and
that is the very reason why I should not call her names behind her
back. It slipped out before I knew it; I am sorry and ashamed, and
that is all there is to say. And now, suppose we go home, and tell
the other girls about the party."

The Committee trooped off across the hill, laughing and talking,
Maine alone grave and silent. As their voices died away, the ferns
nodded beside a great pine-tree that stood just within the border of
the wood, not six yards from where they had been sitting. A slender