Girls High School of Brooklyn - Blue and Gold Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

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kill the dragons or giant the lady probably wished to have killed, and his arm would somehow find its way around Amourette's waist, and the sheer romantic deliciousness of the situation would give speech to his tongue -well, he was somewhat astonished when Amourette, departing from the usual order of things by not stating that there was somewhere a monster ogre with one eye, and a face full of hideous blotches, and no nose or mouth, merely explained to Arthur that she wished to be escorted through a dangerous forest where a fierce enemy lay awaiting her. Egare very promptly offered himself, and of course Arthur consented to his going. Guinevere, burning to see whether Lancelot were safe, thought her nose might venture down from its exalted position, but no, that odious, beauti- ful creature was still there, and Arthur was inviting her to have dinner with the company, because she was the daughter of his dearest friend. Why did Amourette have to be placed next to Lancelot? And there she was, looking three times as fascinating as Guinevere herself, smiling at Lancelot, who was putting on a killing look already! Why-Why-if it came to that-if Guinevere couldn't even have her own lover-where then was the advantage in being Queen? However, to make a plain tale still plainer, we will only relate that Egare swiftly bedazzled Amourette before she could entangle Lancelot, and Guinevere could have gone down on her knees to Egare for it. On the way through the perilous forest, after a terrible combat with the fierce enemy, in which the ogre's head went waltzing down a hill, and Egare had flicked off a leaf from his spotless sleeve and resumed his ride with the lady, his arm somehow found its way around Amourette's waist, and the sheer romantic deliciousness gave speech to his tongueg Amourette of course, blushed and looked out from under her eyelashes, and laid her head lovingly against her knight's shoulder, after having let the ardent Egare snatch his first kiss from the coy maiden. However, perhaps we are being too interested in this sort of thing already, so we shall watch the pair turn about face to Arthur's court, where they were married. Then Guinevere had a colossal job on her hands: how to keep Lance- lot away from Mrs. Amourette fwe don't dare to say or vice-versaj. How- ever Madame was so engrossed with her handsome Egare that she didn't overwork Guinevere, and in about a year and a day, a knight was des- patched to Arthur's very dearest friend with a message from Egare which announced, in the language of those days, something to this effect: Mother and child are doing well. Aurelia Leflier, January, 1933. Ten A

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The Tale of Eg-are and Amourette CContaining an account of the doings of Guinevere regarding Lancelot and a certain young ladyj NCE upon a time there was a knight. I shall not tell you his name, but since we must call him something for purposes of convenience, we may as well call him le Chevalier Egare. They called Gareth Beaumains -in fact, I think it was Egare himself who proposed this title-so if French he the fashion, French it shall be in deference to our knight. Egare was not of quite as great renown in Arthur's court as Lancelot, for instance, but he was quite as well liked as anybody, and I prefer Egare infinitely to Galahad. However., one day, while Egare was seeing how great a color-metamor- phosis teasing could make in Sir Kay's lemony face, a beautiful maiden entered the great wide hall. She had long, dark hair, and eyes which approached their darkness rather through grey than brown, a very white skin, and she was tall and well built. She advanced toward the King with such a queenly air and such consciousness of beauty in her gaze that Guinevere glanced apprehen- sivcly at Lancelot. As soon as Guinevere ascertained that Alnourette was prettier than she, immediately the nose of the better royal half was turned heavenwards, and kept at that precarious angle all the time Amourette was there, thus making the Queen lose a chance of flirting with Lancelot. As you have probably already prophesied, my clever reader, Egare was immediately enslaved by the charlns of this lovely demoiselle, so he decided that he would be the one that would ride through the forest to Nine

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New York 'I' was rush hour in the Tailor Shop in the factory town of the yet-to-be babies, and when I was hurried into the fitting room, the angel who was to equip me with my imagination was so weary, that she cut it out by the wrong pattern, and found it much too large. She was too much fatigued to fashion another, and she knew that discarding this precious substance was prohibited, so she rolled it up, and slipped it in, and looked for a place to send me where this overblessing wouldn't shrivel from under- nourishment. She found the place in a big old fashioned rectory, set in a lovely garden in a sleepy Vermont town. The long happy hours spent there fostered this inherent imagination, and my dreams gradually became so entwined with my surroundings, that even now, as I look back, it is impossible to distinguish between the two. In the garden there were many nooks and crannies in which the fairies might well have lived, and I remember wondering one day, when I crushed a tiny insect on the gravel path, whether that creature might not have heard the swish of my skirts and thought it a tempest, the crunch of my steps and thought it a blast of thunder, felt my final step and thought it a furious cyclone. Realizing that this was possible, it seemed a logical conclusion that our storms were but the movement of a colossal race, and death by accident but the careless step of a giant. I had a friend of about my own age, and together we enacted our fairy tales. My room had a small balcony, and there we waited for the prince to come scrambling up the rose lattice to us. While this sport was most popular, my aunt went to New York on business, and returned laden with gifts and descriptions for us. After this it was no longer in a balcony, but far up a skyscraper, that we waited for our prince to climb over the roses. It never occurred to us to doubt the existence of the roses. Soon, with what wonder-lore we had gleaned from my aunt, and the greater supply taken from our own fertile imaginations, we made New York our Dream City. We visioned it populated with little girls, dressed in silks and satins, riding milk white ponies through glittering streets. These girls, although they were beautiful to me then, would seem strange in many ways if I could see them now, for they all had long black curls, red hair-ribbons, and--eye glasses! Their hair was always black because mine Eleven