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Lily Lodge did the honors at the tea table since her mother, Francesca Braggiotti, was busy with a dance performPapa John Lodge had to restrain the young hostess when it came to jam sandwiches. Lily's also quite a mimic
It's see. . . . We have had the nursery and the kinderMi; now we enter the primary grades. One day recently ■3 chatting with a friend who has a cunning picture on her i of a little Cora Sue Collins, when, gracious sakes alive, a tv voice at my elbow said: "Pardon me, please, lady." looked down, and there was the real Cora Sue in a pretty I applegreen coat and hat, with a pair of pink cheeks, and a I stemmed red rose in her hand! Maybe she was whisked (; by magic. But while I had been examining her picture had been equally busy examining a bracelet on my wrist,
and now she wanted to see the other side of it. I obliged and was thanked politely for my trouble. Now, of course, we were fast friends, and I learned that the lovely red rose which she clutched so tightly was a gift from Mr. Louis B. Mayer on whose lap she had sat not an hour ago. The rose was going to be pressed and kept for life, and Cora Sue was going to act so "good" for Mr. Mayer's pictures that in return he would love her for ever and ever.
And when you talk of love, my lamb, you talk of valentines, don't you? So I'm going to tell [ please turn to page 108 ]
" to right: Leo Carrillo, Muriel Evans, Jean Parker, Betty Furness, J. D. Petit, Julie Laird, Joan Marsh, Mitzi, and Bill iry gathered at the Trocadero for Ida Koverman's party in honor of Jamshed Dinshaw Petit, good-looking banker
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