Clouds of chiffon swirled about her, softest dawn-rose in colour, changing of tints of heliotrope and primrose, as she swayed in graceful, pliant rhythm.

Her slim white arms waved slowly, as the hidden melodies came faintly from the depth of the grove.

Her pretty bare feet shone whitely among the soft pine needles and the steps of her dance were the very essence of poetry itself.
The audience watched in silence, spellbound by the fair sight.

Slowly she moved and swayed; then, as the music quickened, her steps grew more animated, her smile more bright, the lights were stronger, and the dance ended in a whirl of graceful pirouette and tossing, fluttering draperies.

With no pause or intermission, Patty was changed to an impersonation of summer.