I could pick out all their different fits without any trouble.
There was Arabella Satterlee's--she shapes her backs like the top of a
coffin, or sometimes they remind me more of a kite; and Sallie Ann
Hodd's--she makes 'em square; and old Mrs. Tucker's--you can always tell
hers by the way the armholes draw; she makes the minister's wife's. But
they'd every one of 'em done their level best and I was proud of 'em.
Well, when the organ--it had been playin' low and soft all the
time--changed off into the weddin' march and the bridesmaids, eight of
'em, marched up the aisle behind the eight yushers, I tell you, Miss
Halliday, it was a _sight_!
They was all in pink gauzy stuff--I happened to feel one of 'em as she
went by but I couldn't tell what 'twas made of; it seemed dreadful
_flimsy_--and big flat hats all made of roses on their heads, and
carryin' bunches pf long-stemmed roses so big that they had to hold 'em
in their arms like young babes.
Eleanor came behind 'em all, walkin' with her father.
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