of the wreath about the mug. "And this"—bending tenderly over the soap-dish and heaping it with roses—"is purest alabaster encrusted with gems."
She touched the things gently, a happy smile hovering about her lips which made her look as if she were a creature in a dream.
"My, ain't it lovely!" whispered Becky.
"If we just had something for bonbon-dishes," Sara murmured. "There!"—darting to the trunk again. "I remember I saw something this minute."
It was only a bundle of wool wrapped in red and white tissue-paper, but the tissue-paper was soon twisted into the form of little dishes, and was combined with the remaining flowers to ornament the candlestick which was to light the feast. Only the Magic could have made it more than an old table covered with a red shawl and set with rubbish from a long-unopened trunk. But Sara drew back and gazed at it, seeing wonders; and Becky, after staring in delight, spoke with bated breath.
"This 'ere," she suggested, with a glance round the attic—"is it the Bastille now—or has it turned into somethin' different?"
"Oh, yes, yes!" said Sara; "quite different. It is a banquet-hall!"
"My eye, miss!" ejaculated Becky. "A blanket-'all!" and she turned to view the splendors about her with awed bewilderment.
"A banquet-hall," said Sara. "A vast chamber where feasts are given. It has a vaulted roof, and a minstrels'
