it up with a great specious glow which illuminated the room.
“By the time it stops blazing,” Sara said, “we shall forget about its not being real.”
She stood in the dancing glow and smiled.
“Doesn’t it LOOK real?” she said. “Now we will begin the party.”
She led the way to the table. She waved her hand graciously to Ermengarde and Becky. She was in the midst of her dream.
“Advance, fair damsels,” she said in her happy dream-voice, “and be seated at the banquet table. My noble father, the king,
to pretend it is another kind of place; but the Bastille is generally easiest— particularly when it is cold.”
Just at that moment Ermengarde almost jumped off the bed, she was so startled by a sound she heard. It was like two distinct knocks on the wall.
“What is that?” she exclaimed.
Sara got up