half hints in its haste; prairie and field, farmhouse and wood and village, all wore a strange, exciting, ravishing aspect.
"It seems," Meg said, "as if it were all going somewhere—in a great hurry—as if it couldn't wait to let us see it."
"But we are the ones that are going," said Rob. "Listen to the wheels—and we shall soon be there."
After awhile the people who were asleep began to stir and stretch themselves. Some of them looked cross and some looked tired. The very fat lady in the seat before them had a coal smut on her nose.
"Robin," said Meg, after looking at her seriously a moment, "let's get our towel out of the bag, and wet it and wash our faces."
They had taken the liberty of borrowing a towel from Aunt Matilda. It was Meg who had thought of it, and it had indeed been an inspiration. Robin wet two corners of it, and they made a vigorous if limited toilette. At least they had no smuts on their noses, and, after a little touching-up with the mutual comb and brush, they looked none the worse for wear. Their plain and substantial garments were not of the order which has any special charm to lose.
"And it's not our clothes that are going to the Fair," said Meg. "It's us."
