"How do ye like the gown, lass?" asked Rachel tolerantly.
Sally started, gave a little gasp. "Like it!" she cried. "Why—why—it doth become me well, after all!"
Rachel commenced to laugh. "Did—did—ye think we were but fooling ye, Sally?" she stammered. "Trying to rid ourselves o' ancient duds and rags!" And she burst into renewed laughter at the artless admission in Sally's words.
But Sally, preening herself, turning this way and that as she struggled to glimpse herself at every angle, only smiled vaguely. "I wish," she sighed presently, "we were going to a ball i'stead o' a sewing bee!"
"Why, Sally?" asked Mistress Ball, shaking her head at Rachel.
"Because it be such a lovely gown," said Sally simply.
Rachel tossed her head. "Ye do look nice, Sally," she said, "but I fear ye would feel amiss at a ball, for I do assure ye, the plain little gown, while it doth become your hair and eyes, would look very, very plain, indeed, beside the other ladies' attire!" And Rachel tried not to look too superior, for she had once visited some wealthy cousins in Philadelphia, and there had caught a view of life quite different from the plain one of her parents, a life filled with routs and parties and fine clothes, where
