"It's like an exposition." "It's too pretty to be true." "Plenty of palaces, but where are the homes ?" "Oh there are little ones enough--but--." It certainly was different from any towns we had ever seen.
"There's no dirt," said Jeff suddenly.

"There's no smoke," he added after a little.
"There's no noise," I offered; but Terry snubbed me--"That's because they are laying low for us; we'd better be careful how we go in there." Nothing could induce him to stay out, however, so we walked on.
Everything was beauty, order, perfect cleanness, and the pleasantest sense of home over it all.

As we neared the center of the town the houses stood thicker, ran together as it were, grew into rambling palaces grouped among parks and open squares, something as college buildings stand in their quiet greens.
And then, turning a corner, we came into a broad paved space and saw before us a band of women standing close together in even order, evidently waiting for us.
We stopped a moment and looked back.

The street behind was closed by another band, marching steadily, shoulder to shoulder.

We went on--there seemed no other way to go--and presently found ourselves quite surrounded by this close-massed multitude, women, all of them, but-- They were not young.