This is not Russia, or Hungary, but Canada." The boy made no reply.
"Hurry and wash yourself and come out.

They will want you to sing.
I shall wait for you." "No, no, go on.

I shall come after." A shout greeted the girl as she entered the crowded room.

There was no one like her in the dances of her people.
"It is my dance," cried one.
"Not so; she is promised to me." "I tell you this mazurka is mine." So they crowded about her in eager but good-natured contention.
"I cannot dance with you all," cried the girl, laughing, "and so I will dance by myself." At this there was a shout of applause, and in a moment more she was whirling in the bewildering intricacies of a _pas seul_ followed in every step by the admiring gaze and the enthusiastic plaudits of the whole company.

As she finished, laughing and breathless, she caught sight of Kalman, who had just entered.
"There," she exclaimed, "I have lost my breath, and Kalman will sing now." Immediately her suggestion was taken up on every hand.
"A song! A song!" they shouted.