Elizabeth Ann discovered that there was a pleasant custom in Gardner and the farms nearby, of asking the fathers and mothers to come to the parties too. So Uncle Hiram and Aunt Grace were going with Elizabeth Ann and Doris; and they would visit with Mr. and Mrs. Gould in the big farmhouse while the boys and girls had their party in the barn. Catherine had a young aunt—Aunt Nan she called her—who knew how to make everyone have a good time and she would be on hand to see that no guest was neglected, or left out of any of the games.

The party was to start at seven o’clock—“six bells,” as Elizabeth Ann proudly told Doris. This was so that no one need be up very late. Aunt Grace had supper early Hallowe’en night and then Elizabeth Ann and Doris dressed in their cat costumes, put on their domino masks, and climbed giggling into the car. They had to wear coats over their costumes for it was a chilly night.

They saw the lights burning in the Gould barn long before they reached it—in fact they could see the lights as soon as they made the first turn in the road. It was a longer drive or walk by way of the road to the Gould farm, than across fields, but of course when you are going to a party, you go by way of the regular road.

“We have to get out of the car before we get to the barn, Uncle Hiram,” explained Elizabeth Ann, as the car turned into the road that led directly to the Gould barn. “If they see us get out, they’ll know who we are.”

So Uncle Hiram stopped the car and shut off the lights about ten feet from the barn.

Elizabeth Ann and Doris took off their coats, jumped out, and ran up to the barn door.

“Oh-h!” cried Doris, shrinking back of Elizabeth Ann. A tall white figure stood at the barn door and he bowed to them.“Walk right in—I’m a ghost,” he said politely. “I’m very glad to see you, I’m sure.”

Elizabeth Ann giggled in delight. She thought for a ghost he had very nice manners.

“I’m a cat,” she said. “So’s——” but Doris pinched her just in time to prevent her from saying, “So’s Doris,” which, of course, would have given them both away.

They went into the barn, past the ghost, and found themselves on the large main floor.

“Isn’t it lovely!” said Elizabeth Ann.

There were great shocks of corn stalks standing about, and everywhere pumpkins carved into lanterns. In every pumpkin there was a lighted electric bulb—Mr. Gould was a careful farmer, and he wouldn’t have any candles in his barn. There were no chairs, but heaps of sofa cushions, covered with gingham covers so that no one need be afraid to use them—the covers would wash. There was the piano in one corner, just as Catherine had promised, too. “Where’s Catherine?” asked Elizabeth Ann, staring around her.

There were pirates and sailors and gypsy girls and American Indians and fairy princesses flitting about. Elizabeth Ann thought she recognized several of the girls in her class, but she couldn’t be sure, because they wore masks. There were Generals in uniforms with hundreds of brass buttons winking in the light. And there were farmers, in wide straw hats and brand new ones too, though, thought Elizabeth Ann, straw hats were funny in October.

“I think that’s Catherine,” whispered Doris, pointing to a fairy princess who stood talking to Aunt Nan—the only guest who did not wear a mask.

As soon as she saw the fairy princess, Elizabeth Ann felt that Doris was right. The princess was about as tall as Catherine was, but it was her dress that made Elizabeth Ann so sure. No one but Catherine Gould would have a dress like that to wear to a party.

The dress was some soft white stuff and it was completely covered with little silver spangles. Every time the girl who wore it moved a step, the spangles shone and glittered. There was a silver crown to go with the dress, and a long scepter too. Oh, that was Catherine Gould—Elizabeth Ann had no doubt of it.

“We want to march!” called Aunt Nan, when everyone had come up and spoken to her—as they weren’t expected to find the real hostess till the time to unmask came.

By the time Elizabeth Ann and Doris had reached Aunt Nan and had shaken hands with her, the fairy princess had disappeared. Now Elizabeth Ann looked around expectantly, for of course Catherine could play the piano. She talked about her music lessons all the time.

“Is there anyone here who will play for us?” asked Aunt Nan, looking hard at a little clown in a red and yellow suit.

The clown backed away hastily.

“I can’t play,” he—or she—mumbled shyly.

Then a voice, over by the door, said quietly, “I’ll play a march, if you like.”

Elizabeth Ann was so surprised she clutched Doris by the arm and pinched her, though she didn’t mean to at all. There, just coming in the door, was Roger Calendar in his embroidered blue silk Chinese costume.

Roger was masked and apparently no one knew him, but of course Elizabeth Ann recognized the suit. Doris didn’t know anything about it, so she continued to stare placidly. Doris had not been home the afternoon Uncle Hiram showed Elizabeth Ann the chests and she had been outdoors, playing, when Roger stopped in to have Aunt Grace fit the suit to him. Uncle Hiram had suggested that no one tell Doris, because she sometimes revealed secrets when she was excited. So Elizabeth Ann was confident she was the only one at the party who knew who the guest in the blue silk suit really was.

But Roger couldn’t play the piano—Elizabeth Ann was sure he couldn’t do that. Why, the Bostwicks, with whom he lived didn’t have a piano. She had heard Mrs. Bostwick tell Aunt Grace that the reason they bought a radio was because she liked a little music in the house.

Yet there was Roger, walking toward the piano. While Elizabeth Ann watched him—and for that matter everyone watched him—he sat down on the piano bench. He began to play—the liveliest of marches rippled from under his fingers, and feet began to go tap-tap-tap, all over the barn.

Elizabeth Ann was sure Catherine was the fairy princess when she saw how that girl rushed to take her place at the head of the line. Catherine would want to lead the march—in school she always wanted to lead, and she was always disappointed when Miss Owen declared all the pupils must take turns.

Aunt Nan paired off the children, and Elizabeth Ann found she was to march with the ghost. All she could see of him, except the sheet around his body and the pillow case around his head, were two merry eyes that twinkled at her through slits cut in the pillow case.

“Bet you don’t know who I am,” said the ghost, his foot keeping time to that enchanting music.

“No,” said Elizabeth Ann, “I don’t know you. Do you know me?” “Sure, you’re Mattie Harrison,” the ghost assured her. “I’d know you anywhere; but don’t be afraid—I won’t tell.”

Elizabeth Ann laughed. She thought it was fine to be told she was Mattie Harrison and if the ghost wanted to keep it a secret that would be still more fun.

The march started. Round and round the barn the children went, and the third time Elizabeth Ann noticed that the doorway of the barn was crowded—the grown-ups stood there, watching. They had wanted to see the costumes, and had come out in the frosty air to watch the pretty march.

“Now we’re going to have a Virginia Reel,” announced Aunt Nan, “because that is easy to dance, and everyone can do it; I want you to take a good look at every couple’s costume as they go down the line. Afterward I’ll ask you to vote for the prettiest costume worn by a girl, the best costume worn by a boy, and the funniest costume worn by either a girl or boy. Remember to look at everybody’s costume.”

Roger still sat at the piano. At a nod from Aunt Nan he began to play again. Dear me, he couldn’t be Roger, thought the bewildered Elizabeth Ann. Yet he was wearing the costume Uncle Hiram had loaned Roger. No one else could possibly come to the party wearing that blue silk suit.

Still thinking and puzzling about it, Elizabeth Ann danced down the line with her ghost. Everyone laughed and clapped when the white ghost and the black cat danced together and the ghost whispered to Elizabeth Ann, “Gee, Mattie, you dance better than you did,” and that, of course, made the cat break into a giggle.

“Now I’ll play a few minutes, while the Chinese Mandarin comes and dances,” announced Aunt Nan.

She took her place at the piano and Roger came toward the others.

“My, hasn’t he a beautiful costume!” Elizabeth Ann heard the fairy princess whisper.

The gold dragons gleamed and the red and green of the embroidery shone under the shadowy lights streaming down from the pumpkins. Elizabeth Ann was a little surprised herself to see how handsome Roger’s costume looked.

He made the fairy princess a little bow and she gave him her hand and they tripped down the line and back while the others looked at them. Beyond a doubt they wore the handsomest costumes, and Elizabeth Ann’s heart began to thump a little with excitement. Suppose Roger Calendar should win the first prize?

“Now, before we have the games, we’ll award the prizes, and then we’ll unmask,” said Aunt Nan, turning around on the piano bench.

“Who wins the first prize for the girl’s prettiest costume?” she asked, reaching under the piano bench and bringing out three boxes tied with orange ribbon and wrapped in black paper.

“The fairy princess!” shouted the boys and girls as with one voice.

“Oh, dear!” Aunt Nan sighed. “I hate to have Catherine win her own prize. We’ll have to see what can be done about that. Unmask, Catherine.” Catherine took off her mask and shook back her hair. Her face was flushed with triumph and excitement as they clapped for her.

“And which boy wins first prize for the handsomest costume?” asked Aunt Nan, holding up a box.

My goodness, they almost shouted the answer.

“Chinese Mandarin!” they cried, “Chinese Mandarin!” and Elizabeth Ann noticed that Catherine was shouting as loudly as the rest.

“Unmask, Mandarin,” commanded Aunt Nan, smiling. “You get the prize.”

Roger put up his hand and took the mask away from his eyes.

There was a moment’s silence and then Catherine’s voice rose loud and shrill.

“Why it’s only Roger Calendar!” she said. “I don’t think that’s fair!”