In vain I pleaded that I did not know any of them well enough.

They laughed at me, and said that Belle Marigold had consented to go with me; that I knew her--she had been in the store and bought some blue silk for twelve-and-a-half cents a yard; and they rather thought she fancied me, she seemed so ready to accept my escort; should they tell her I would call for her at ten o'clock, sharp, on Saturday morning?
There was no refusing under the circumstances, and I said "yes" with the same gaiety with which I would have signed my own death-warrant.
Yet I wanted to go to the picnic, dreadfully; and of all the young ladies in Babbletown I preferred Belle Marigold.

She was the handsomest and most stylish girl in the county.

Her eyes were large, black, and mischievous; her mouth like a rose; she dressed prettily, and had an elegant little way of tossing back her dark ringlets that was fascinating even at first sight.

I was told my doom on Thursday afternoon, and do not think I slept any that or Friday night--am positive I did not Saturday night.