Lacy

Lacy didn’t have a dress for the wedding. “Oh, I'm late. What do I wear!” she sighed. At last, she donned a polka-dotted raincoat over shorts and matching galoshes. “Like a gumdrop princess,” she thought, hurrying out the door.

At the church, white lace lined every doorway, every window sill, and every guest. The men wore lace collars; the women, lace dresses. Lace trimmed the pews and rippled from the rafters.

The only thing not laden in lace was Lacy—the bride. The groom, whose family made doilies for a living, watched her run in and grew dotty with delight.