82 THE CINDERELLA FROCK.

The little girls of her own division were all
assembled, and all awaiting her outside, each
one arrayed in white. That was strange.
Every one; the second division too; but
before she had time to think of it, she was
escorted in, in great state, and placed in a
chair in the middle of the room. What did it
all mean? no one spoke, and poor Rovina
grew pale as she tried to think. Perhaps
their white garments were meant to contrast
her dress, just as their innocence contrasted
with her guilt.

The morning exercises were scarcely over
when visitors began pouring in. Lizzie Hale’s
father and mother, Alice Lisle’s father, Louise
Carl’s parents, some members of the school
committee ; and—and—did her eyes deceive
her, her own father and mother. Rovina’s
firmness could endure no longer. She cov-