Numbers of ornaments and bits of tea-gowns would do.

But with her usual practical forethought, Lady Anningford had already taken time by the forelock, and asked that one of the motors, going in to Tilling Green on a message, should bring back all the bales of bright and light-colored merinos and nunscloths the one large general shop boasted of.
And, amidst screams of delighted excitement from the girls, the immense parcel was presently unpacked.
It contained marvels of white and creams, and one which was declared the exact thing for _Isolt_.

It was a merino of that brilliant violent shade of azure, the tone which is advertised as "Rickett's Paris blue" for washing clothes.

It had been in the shop for years, and was unearthed for this occasion--a perfect relic of later Victorian aniline dye.
"It will be simply too gorgeously wonderful, with just a fillet of gold round her head, and all her adorable red hair hanging down," Lady Anningford said to Ethelrida.
"We shan't have to wear a stitch underneath," Lady Betty announced decidedly, while she pirouetted before a cheval glass--they were all in Lady Anningford's room--with some stuff draped round her childish form.
"The gowns must have the right look, just long, straight things, with hanging sleeves and perhaps a girdle.

I shall have cream, and you, Mary, as _Elaine_, must have white; but Emily had better have that mauve for _Enid_, as she was married." "Why must _Enid_ have mauve because she is married ?" asked Emily, who did not like the color.
"I don't know why," Lady Betty answered, "except that, if you are married, you can't possibly have white, like Mary and me, who aren't.
People are quite different--after, and mauve is very respectable for them," she went on.