CHAPTER XI.
GRAND TIMES "To go to Washington ?" "Go to Washington!" "Did you ever ?" "Never!" "See the President." "And the White House and the soldiers." "And the donkeys and all." "I know it." "Father Breynton, if you're not just magnificent!" This classical conversation took place on a certain Wednesday morning in that golden June which the picnic ushered in.

And such a hurrying and scampering, and mending and making of dresses, such a trimming of summer hats and packing of trunks and valises, as there was the rest of that week! "You'd better believe we're busy," Gypsy observed, with a very superior air, to Mrs.Surly, who had "just dropped in to find out what that flyaway Gypsy had been screechin' round the house so for, these two days past." "You'd better believe we have enough to do.

Joy's got two white skirts to have tucked in little bits of tucks, and she's sent to Boston for a new veil.

Mother's made me a whole new dress to wear in the cars, and I've got a _beau_tiful brown feather for my turban.

Besides, we're going to see the President, and what do you think?
Father says there are ever so many mules in Washington.