"I never knew before what an uninteresting thing a featherbed is--when you are obliged to hold it in your arms.

Everything in its place, I find.

I used to have a good opinion of them." Daisy ran back to the drawing-room, and was utterly struck with wonder at the picture over which all this fun had been held.

It was beautiful, she thought.

The two children lay so naturally asleep, one little bare foot peeping out from under the coverings; and the grim faces that scowled at them over the featherbed with those strange hats overshadowing, made such a contrast; and they were all so breathlessly still, and the lights and shadows were so good; Daisy was disposed to give her verdict that there never was a play like this play.