Belle Ringer

By Bea

Unlike a lot of today's women, I've always liked my mother. I never was the daughter she wanted. I'm more like my daddy I reckon --the visiting pro athlete who deposited me in mama's sperm bank, then found other matters of interest to pursue. Our family name, nor the town we come from, you won't hear from me. We sure ain't the rich side of the family, but mama still figures that the disgrace she put on our name by carrying a little bastard (me) into town, when there were still plenty who would have been glad to give me their names, was more than enough from our branch of the family tree.

She's shrunk a little, I guess, from the five seven or so that she used to carry. A well built woman, I've heard described as. Nothing close to my five- eleven mind you, but big enough to scare the hell out of me when I was little -- and probably now, if she were to put her mind to it. Not that she ever hit me. How come she didn't, I'll never know, but a sharp glance or a cautionary hand on my arm was all that she ever used.

I must have been a real pain in the ass to bring up. I was a girl, but surely hated being one. I liked the other girls just fine, they just seemed to think differently than me. I was always more comfortable in jeans than a dress. Always happier with a bat or a ball in my hands than needlework and, god help my poor mama, she did try to make a lady out of me, and failed miserably. She didn't fail at teaching me to go after what I want though -- and I think I've done pretty well at that. I think my husband, Ashley, is happy enough. We're well enough off, so I don't see that I've done much harm to anyone, which is more than can be said by some.

I know that, before she gave up on trying to make a lady out of me that my mother was trying like crazy to show the townsfolk - especially the snooty side of our family that, by god, she may not have acted like a lady, but she sure as hell knew how to raise one.

The only time I ever really raised hell with her was at Ashley's mother's yearly picnic. I just hated getting all gussied up in these southern belle dresses of organdy and ribbons, and normally, could talk my way out of wearing them. It never worked for that family picnic though, not until I'd hit the height that no self-respecting belle would ever admit to. Any way, there I'd be, acting "genteel" and watching the boys, these lucky little shits, have a great time.

Ashley, unlike his mother, wasn't a bad person. Truth be told, he was always one of the nicer boys. About two years older than me, he was taller than me until I was about eleven. By the time I was twelve, I was bigger and heavier than him. Being in a real snit at the picnic that year (my mother had got me into one of these huge crinolines) I got him off by himself, then got him into a wrassling match. I think we were both surprised at how easily I put him on his back. Astride him, I then pinned his arms to the ground with my knees, and pulled the hem of the skirt back up so that I could laugh at him. Then I saw a friend of his coming our way and got a great idea. "Here comes Terry Metcalfe, Ashley. Think he's looking for you?" His face got crimson at the thought of being seen, and he pleaded with me to let him up. "Nah." I said. "You don't want him to see you? Turn on your side and curl up into a ball." Saying this, I raised myself just enough to let him do this. Then, giggling like a fool, I spread my crinoline and petticoats all around him so that he was completely hidden, then lowered myself on top of him again.

As it so happened, Terry was looking for him, and asked me if I'd seen him. I said I hadn't, then talked to him for a minute or so, getting the biggest kick from feeling the body underneath me quivering in fear and humiliation. After Terry left, I started talking to Ashley. "You sorry?" I asked. "For what? C'mon, let me up." Came the muffled response from under my dress. "You sorry?" I asked again. I took him a little while, but he finally caught on. After he had admitted he was sorry for a whole mess of (invented) errors of his, and pleaded real prettily to be let up, I finally relented. When I finally let him stand, I was expecting him to maybe start fighting me again, but he didn't. I did notice that he had a very strange expression around his eyes. Being the shit that I was, I didn't even think any more about it, as I found some unattended mint juleps later on and got myself a little tipsy.

The years slid by in softball, basketball, track, swimming, and I had got a pretty good name for myself in sports by the time I was a senior in high school. I had learned one thing to my sorrow. I was the best girl athlete for miles around, but was no match for even the boys in the middle of the athletic pack. This drove me crazy for a while, but I had found a way of getting back at the male sex about the time I was seventeen.

I'd read this article about a couple of girl students in California. Seems they were pretty big girls too, both interested in gender psychology. Got a date set up with a couple of the less aggressive boys, took them out for dinner, opened doors for them, drove them home, treating them just like gentlemen are supposed to treat ladies. By the time the date was over, they had the two boys sitting giggling together in the back seat of the car like a pair of girls.

The whole idea intrigued me. I brought the idea up as a joke to my best friend Thelma (a real raunchy broad, even in these days). She thought the idea was a hoot, and we decided to give it a try. She got Ken, I got David.

It went just like I thought. The boys never knew what hit them. At the drive-in I had my hand down inside his pants inside minutes. As my other arm was around his neck pulling him close to me, he couldn't even struggle. I kissed him, full on the mouth, and he came all over my hand. Halfway through the main feature, I pulled him to me, and repeated the performance. In the meanwhile, Thelma was treating Ken in exactly the same way. At one time, when we both had the boys firmly in our embrace, we even had a little talk to each other, over them, saying how 'cute' and how 'soft' - just like girls - they were. Both boys were real subdued after that. Could hardly look at each other in the eyes, it seemed like. I was driving so, after I dropped off Thelma and Ken, I drove David to a nice lonely lane, took him in my arms, pulled his pants down and mounted him. He struggled a little, but not very much.

In practically no time, I found myself very popular with a certain type of boy - the small uncertain ones who liked to pretend they knew all the answers. I became adept with silk handkerchiefs, and once I got my hands on them, many of them lost any pretense they had at being macho for a long, long, time - at least around me.

Then the family picnic came around again. By this time, mama had quit worrying about my clothes, so I was able to go in a comfortable short pleated skirt and school sweater. I hadn't seen Ashley for about two years as he had been at college the year before, and couldn't make it. Turned out that he was now a drop out. Anyway, I was shocked when I saw him. He was so goddam tiny!

I looked at him, and I knew! So help me, I knew! I remembered the look on his face, the time I had put him down. To prove it to myself, I whispered in his ear that I had a secret to tell him. He got this condescending look on his face that I wiped off the minute I got him alone. I put an arm around him, pulled him in tight, and kissed him full on the mouth. He fought me, just for a second, then his mouth opened and I was in. My tongue roaming aggressively inside his mouth, I felt him start to buckle at the knees.

I let him go then, knowing my prey, ignored him completely for the rest of the day. I think he worried at first what I might do to him. Then I think he worried that I wouldn't do anything at all. Anyhow, he was smart enough to make up to mama. On the way home, she couldn't stop repeating how surprisingly nice Ashley had turned out. She guessed, I think, that I came into it somewhere, but was smart enough not to ask any questions.

Sure enough, two nights later, here comes the bold Ashley in his brand new Buick roadster ( I wonder what his mother would have given him if he had graduated?) with one of their cook's famous pecan pies. Mama made a big fuss over him. He was talked into sitting on the porch with us, as we ate slivers of the pie. Naturally, he sat beside me on the porch, so I gave him a little taste of what I was sure he had come for.

As it got dark, mama started to doze a little. Not sleeping mind you -- just starting to make pauses in the conversation, if you know what I mean. My hand found his thigh, and I felt him stiffen with surprise. Then, mother slightly dozing in front of us, I pulled him under me a little, got my hand inside his pants and had him come in just a few moments.

Initially, I think he was disgusted in the passive role he played, and stayed away for about three days. I'm sure that when he did return, it was to get back some semblance of his male pride. It took me only a moment to have him forget that nonsense. After a month or so it was amazing to me just how submissive he could be. I had figured on it of course, but had decided to take it in easy stages.

Then one night, I went into the next phase. I had set it up perfectly. My room was a mess, I had some ironing to do, and some buttons to sew on a blouse. I had worked on mama until she had grounded me until these chores were done. When Ashley came over, I whined and cried until I had everybody on edge. Finally, I suggested to him that if he'd do my chores for me -- then I'd be very, very, grateful.

He blushed when he finally was fool enough to volunteer. He blushed even more, a few minutes later, standing in front of mama, wearing one of her frilliest aprons with me explaining why he felt that I needed to see Thelma, and that he had offered to do my chores to get me off the hook. Mother tried to look aghast at this development, but there was, I thought, a glint of malice in her eye at seeing the son of her arch enemy brought to such depths. "Danielle! You can't expect poor Ashley to do your chores" (did I still see a glint of enjoyment in these eyes?) "Don't see why not" I retorted "You don't mind, do you Ashley?" He blushed, fingering the frills of the apron skirt "No. But I'd just as soon not..." "Not what?" I growled. "Let the poor boy finish" mama said. "Not what?" I repeated ominously. "Wear this.." He faltered. "She makes me wear them." I explained patiently "and your clothes are a lot more expensive than mine - and need the protection." I added. "But he's a boy" mama said, rubbing it in a little, I thought. "If you've a boy's apron, I guess he can wear that" I conceded. "If you don't, that one suits him as well as it does me." I decided to nail it down, so stared at him coldly. "I'm getting awful tired of this. Either do my chores for me like you promised, or go home! Here!" I continued, pretending impatience "Give me my apron. I'll do my own chores!"

He backed away "No Danny, please. Go on and see Thelma. I know you really need to see her. Go on. Honest, I don't mind." Grinning inside, I allowed this to persuade me. I set off for Thelma's, telling them that I wouldn't be long.

I was gone about two hours. He was just finishing sewing the buttons on the blouse, and looked a lot more at home in the apron by that time. He did blush when mama raved about how well he'd done the chores, and how quickly he'd learned to sew. "A lot quicker and neater than you ever did" she commented.

A month or two later, she had ceased to be impressed though, by that time I guess, Ashley flitting around our house in a frilly apron, doing my chores, wasn't so much of a novelty. I've heard that clothes make the man. It seems true enough to me, though in Ashleys case I think they were his un-making.

Naturally, I rewarded him for his efforts by treating him more and more like my girl. If mama was out, I'd get him in the flounciest apron I could find, then fondle him till he about lost his mind. I started calling him "Dolly' or "Pussy". He actually cried a little one time when I called him "Alice", though he was back for more the next night. Naturally, I started pressing it a little more. One night, I was playing his organ with some thing other than the normal handkerchief in my hand. "How's this doll ?" I asked. He moaned in delight, practically swooning into my arms. "How'd you like it like this all the time ?" I asked. "Oh,...ni.i.c.e" he moaned, as he came.

Afterwards, I reminded him of his comment when I handed him a dozen pair of assorted pastel, satin panties. He blushed. "But why ?" He murmured. "This way, I don't have to carry something all the time" I told him firmly, "Anyway, don't you like them? I was sure you would". It took him about a week to realize that, if he didn't wear the panties there was no fun forthcoming.

About then, Thelma came out of the closet, with a little cutie called Mary for a girlfriend. Looking back, it seems incredible that no-one cottoned as to what was going on between them, but there again, the South was never considered as a bastion of advanced thinking to my knowledge. Not in those days anyway.

The four of us got to hanging around together quite a lot, with the roles being pretty well defined. Thelma and I were the guys, Ashley and Mary were the supporting female roles. I started calling him 'Ceel'. I'm pretty sure that at first he was too scared to ask why, just in case he didn't like the answer.

At the same time, his curiosity had to get the better of him. One night, he started joking around in front of Thelma and Mary. "She calls me Ceel 'cause with some tea in me, I become da da S.T.E.E.L " he sang, and flexed his puny little muscles. We all laughed, especially me. "You almost got it!" I chortled "..Almost". Emboldened by my good humor, he had to ask "But, really. Why do you call me Ceel?" "You remind me of someone I used to like a lot" I answered. "I know! I know!" Thelma blurted "But you've got the name wrong Danny, it was 'Sill' Bromley..In the seventh grade..Right?"

"Wrong" I said coldly. "Sill was a real tearabout. Do you see any resemblance between these two: Ceel here and Sill Bromley?" Ashley butted in impatiently "Well, who then?" He asked. I stared at him mockingly "Do you really want to know?" He was in too deep. He'd made an issue of it. Now he couldn't back off. He nodded.

Staring right at him, I answered "I had a friend in sixth grade. Her name was Celia Graves. You look almost like her. At times you act just like her. I called her 'Ceel'. I call you Ceel. Thelma laughed "Wasn't she the one who always wore these little white organdy dresses?.. Yeah! I remember her now. Now that you mention it, put him in one of these little dresses and they'd almost be twins."

But it was Mary who capped the whole episode. While his face was still flaming (it isn't the done thing to ever intimate that a boy could ever wear a dress) she linked her arm into his. "I just hate nicknames too" she said firmly. I think that Celia is a nice name. You don't mind if I call you Celia now and then ..?" And with that, she led him off like a lamb. Another episode in his transformation happened when he told us that his mother was getting anxious to meet the 'mystery' girl he had been spending so much time with. She'd heard rumors ".. About such a pretty little thing ..." We couldn't figure what the hell she was talking about at first. Then it dawned -- she was talking about Mary!!! And to a certain extent, it made sense. You see, when the four of us walked around together, we were something like an old married foursome. The 'guys' up front -- the 'gals' at the back. Thelma and I were buddies from way back and Ashley and Mary made such a lovely couple. It was easy to see how anyone could misunderstand.

When Ashley added that his mother had seemed very pleased that it was a girl he was going with, he'd got quite upset and asked her what she was talking about. She'd stammered out that "..Recently.. He'd started to show some...unmanly.. characteristics" Ashley laughed when he said this, but I was concerned. I don't think he realized that he was starting to come across in a feminine manner. He wasn't 'swish' like one of these gays -- he was just beginning to come across like a natural girl in a lot of ways.

I started thinking. If Ashley were to take Mary home as a 'friend'' it would be no less than the truth and, might give me a little more time to get my plans converted into action. To tell the truth, I had every intention of marrying him -- but I was going to do it in the way that I wanted. If his mother got suspicious too soon, it might wreck everything.

"I've got a great idea" I announced "Take Mary home with you. You don't need to say anything other than that you're friends. She'll think that you're a couple.." "You and me. We're a couple. Why should I lie about it?" He interrupted. "She doesn't like me." I said honestly. "This way, we'll have a little more time to figure out how to tell her that we're a couple."

I liked the fact that he was unwilling to lie to his mama, but I kept pushing the fact that he and Mary were actually close friends. Any assumptions that his mother cared to draw.. And so on. Finally he relented. Of course, he didn't know that I had bribed Mary into insuring his mother thought the way I wanted her to. I had also given her a little tape recorder to see if it would catch any of the conversation.

The ruse, and the recorder, both worked like charms. His mother was so glad to see a pert young thing like Mary, that I could practically hear wedding bells in her voice. Mary never told a single lie but lured his mama on with little bits of truth that she swallowed, then made mouthfuls of in her own mind. I did hear something else on the recorder though. As the afternoon wore on, Ashley started to sound more and more like Mary. He was quickly losing all signs of masculinity, even around his mother. It was time I moved into my final phase, I thought.

At home, I started treating him dreadfully, especially when mama was around. Mind you, I made sure that he was recompensed in the way that he liked when we were alone -- I certainly didn't want to lose him at this stage. I had him tidy up after me, clean my room, dust and vacuum the house, do my washing and ironing, all under a constant barrage of fault finding and criticism. As I knew she would, mama started to voice her opinions of the way I was treating him, around the time that I started using him to run little 'personal' errands to the stores, run my baths for me, hand wash and iron my lingerie. "You're not her maid Ashley." She'd say "Don't stand for her nonsense." I always responded in exactly the same tone, and used the same words "I do not treat him like a maid." Would be all I'd say, and terminate the conversation.

This little talk must have been repeated twenty times over the next week. On a Saturday morning I was finally ready. I had him dusting my room, wearing a frilly apron and, for the first time, a frilled flounced dust cap. When mama saw his little get-up she was fit to be tied. "Danielle!! How can you possibly do this to this nice young man. You are treating him like a maid!"

"Mama" I said heatedly "I am not treating him like a maid." I turned to him. "I don't make you wear that apron or cap, do I? I don't treat you like a maid, do I?" In front of my mother, waving the feather duster around and wearing the absolute symbols of being a maid - the frilled apron and matching dust cap - and with all of her comments ringing in his ears, he really couldn't do much else. His face flamed, and he picked at the apron nervously "W.e.l.l l kinda..." He started.

I acted dumbfounded "You do think it!" I yelled. He had to stand his ground in front of mama, but started wavering "But I know you don't mean it..." I pretended to cry (what a performance!). I know that mama started to figure that something was wrong with this picture, right about then but it was too late. "Get out of my house!" I yelled "I never want to see you again!".

He protested tearfully, but I pulled the apron and cap off him, then threw him out, swearing that I'd never speak to him again.

I didn't respond to his pleading or entreaties for about four days. By that time, he was getting desperate. I finally relented and allowed him to come over. "You really hurt my feelings" I cooed, gently stroking his inner thigh. He snuggled into me "I'm really sorry Danny" he murmured. I pushed him away a little "But you still think it, I know you do" I whined.

"Well you are bossy" he admitted, but added hastily "But that's why I like you". I pushed him away further "I do not treat you like a maid!" I said (hopefully for the last time. I was getting sick of saying it). He was thoroughly confused. The way I normally treated him so opposed to what I was vehemently saying. He said the words I was waiting for. "What am I supposed to say? What do you want me to do?" He balked when he heard my idea- just like I thought he might. A few more strokes on the thigh, kisses and nibbles at his ear, soft words and half made promises, and my idea didn't sound so bad to him after all.

You see, I wanted him to prove to mama that it had been his idea all along to do my chores. To prove to her that I'd never really treated him like a maid before, he was going to volunteer to be a real maid for us the following Saturday. Naturally, I would assist him in getting the uniform, Mary could help with the hair and makeup and so on..

First of all, I had him shave off all of his body hair. He's never been that hairy, but I wanted his mind on the right track. Then, around the house, I had him start wearing full lingerie, just to get used to it. I had him in high heels as well. Naturally, I made damn sure that there was no chance that mama would be around. He was extremely reluctant at first, but gradually slid into an increasing femininity. By Thursday he was adept at walking in heels and giving every appearance that he had worn them all of his life. That night, I had him rehearse the speech that I'd drafted for him.

He'd followed my instructions, telling his mother he'd be away for the weekend. I knew that my mama would be visiting friends until late Friday evening,so had him report in about seven o'clock that night. I had Mary waiting for him. She put his hair up in rollers, but only after he asked her to do it. She took longer than I thought she would as she had to do his nails as well, but she was gone shortly after nine - promising to be over early the next day to brush his hair out. I 'borrowed' one of mama's nightgowns and peignoirs. I made sure that I picked one that she thought too feminine for her, and didn't use. Once I got him in them, he seemed to settle right down and we spent a pleasant hour or so, watching T.V. I got us both into bed and got the light out long before mama was due home. That way, she wouldn't be dropping in for any of her late night chats.

Poor Ashley. I cuddled him and comforted him, but had no intention of letting him get any sexual release. I'd found that, sometimes, I could lose control of him after he got off. Not always, but often enough that I wasn't going to take any chances. This was part of the reason that I'd wanted him to stay over. Left to himself, he might have handled himself, if you know what I mean.

Surprisingly enough, he dropped off to sleep before I did. His breathing evened out, and he fitted himself right into my body. I got a smell of the fragrance that mama uses in her lingerie drawer. That, and the satiny feel of the nightgown, and his soft feminine body almost turned me on. I nearly took him but, for the reasons mentioned, left him alone.

In the morning, it was so nice to have her, I mean him, wake up beside me. Again, I nearly made love to him, he was just so pretty. I made him get out of bed and shower (with a nice scented soap). I then had him put on the special lingerie I'd bought. Lustrous black satin bra, panties, full slip, garter belt and black mesh stockings. About then, I could hear mama stirring in the kitchen.

Just as I started to wonder about Mary, she arrived with Thelma in tow. Mama was too polite to ask what the hell they were doing there at that time in the morning, but I heard Mary say that they were here for breakfast - but would it be okay If she came up and saw me first? Celia panicked a little when she realized that Mary was going to see her in lingerie for the first time. I grinned when I saw the feminine logic he used. On went the peignoir -- which was probably the most feminine thing in the room. It wouldn't have made any difference anyway. As far as Mary was concerned, she was here to do a girl's hair. She had seen girls in lingerie before.

She brushed out his hair. She had done a great job. Ashley's hair wasn't that long, but it was decidedly feminine. As soon as she was finished, I shooed her out of the room. Ashley's eyes got big when I pulled the full skirted black taffeta dress out of the closet. I'm not into clothes, but this was gorgeous. He tried to be nonchalant, but I could see him trembling. "Fancy maid's dress" he managed to get out, stammering a little. "You'll love it once it's on." I re-assured him.

The back was all opened up, so I spread it for him "C'mon Ashley baby" I said gently, scared That I might spook him now. "Step into this". Hesitantly, he did. Quickly, I pulled it up on his body and, with just a little urging, got his hands and arms into the sleeves. I started to fasten him in, using the hook and eye fasteners at the back. I couldn't resist teasing him a little now that the battle was all but over. "You really sure you want to do this?" I asked innocently.

"Oh, I guess it's o.k" he replied dully. "You know, after mama's seen you in this dress and being a maid, she'll have a hard time seeing you as a man again." " Oh God Danny, must I?" He whimpered. I kept on imprisoning him in his new clothes and ignored him. "There!" I said briskly. "Just a few more things. Lift up your skirt and we'll get your petticoat on." Helplessly, he did as I said, and I had him step into a multi layer petticoat whose white ruffles would flash a little when he walked. Then his flouncy little apron and a pert, saucy little lace cap in white, with black ribbons got pinned on. The shoes were last.

I made him put on his own makeup. He wasn't that good at it, but I assured him that, with practice, he'd do just fine. I looked at my handiwork -- a pretty little maid. No-one would ever guess that this young girl was, or ever had been, a boy. My plans didn't call for him to be much of one in the future either, I may add. I looked at my watch. "Follow me down in about three minutes, o.k.?" He nodded. "You forgot to curtsey" I reminded him gently. He blushed "Sorry ma'am" he said and curtseyed just as I'd taught him.

I went down to join mama, Thelma, and Mary in the kitchen. Mary, naturally, had some idea of what was going to happen, but that was all. Thelma and mama were totally in the dark. I said hi to Thelma, and gave mama a good morning kiss. She was pleased to see me. "Yo Danny" she said, doing her Rocky Balboa imitation "How's about some breakfast?" "Great idea !" I replied, "Ceel will be down in a minute. I'm sure that she'd love to cook for us all." "Who's Ceel?" Mama asked. Then "I assume this is she?" As Ashley came into the room. Then came the recognition and then the significance of the maid's uniform hit her. "My God Danny! What have you done to this poor boy?" I said nothing, but stared at Ashley. He went into the speech, just the way I'd rehearsed him. Curtseying daintily, but blushing furiously, he described how mama had been mistaken in thinking that I had been treating him like a maid. To convince her of her mistake, he felt that the only way he could do it was to voluntarily, offer to be the housemaid for the day, so here he was. He then surprised me by saying that he didn't like the name Celia. "My name is Ashley" he said "It's just as good a name for a girl as anything else."

My mother shook her head, but I thought I re-detected that small glimmer of malicious pride in her eyes as she gave the son of her arch enemy instructions as to how she liked her breakfast - and watched him curtsey to her in his pretty maid's uniform.

Ashley did very well. Naturally he took some real teasing from Thelma who would run her hand up his dress when he'd pass or snap his bra strap. Actually, as the day wore on he even started to fade into the background. Thelma and Mary left after lunch, and mama took her afternoon nap until afternoon tea about four o'clock. I think she thought that the three places I had Ashley set were for the three of us. I suppose that he thought the same thing. When the doorbell rang, he just stood there like a dummy. "Well, answer it Ashley" I said "and see who's there." Mama glared at me "You can't be letting strangers in here!" I looked back at her calmly "You got to meet your daughter's new mother in law sometime, don't you?" Ashley stood at the door, frozen. His mother stood on the stoop, then brushed by him. "Didn't know you'd got up in the world enough to hire a maid. Is she all there?. Looks like she could use a little train..." She turned back quickly and walked over to Ashley. Her hand swung back, as if to slap him. Instead she cupped his face gently in her hand. "Well, looks like I wasn't too wrong now, was I Ashley?"

I had to admire the old lady. She had a damn sight more spunk than her hoity-toity airs would have ever led me to think. I was intentionally cruel. "Ashley. You can serve us tea now, please." He could no more deny me now than fly. He curtsied and after us three ladies had sat, proceeded to serve us--and very nicely too.

There was some shock, but not much, when I detailed my plan for our marriage. His mother wasn't overly in favor of a Vegas wedding but she relented when she heard that I wanted Ashley to wear my mama's wedding dress -- and that I was pretty sure that Ashley would want her there as matron of honor.

With their money, I had no problem getting through college, especially when I showed a real aptitude for running some of the family's far flung enterprises. Of course, everybody thinks I'm the man of the family, while Ashley is one of the prettier little helpmates that any man could ask for. Now that we're even comfortable in our respective roles, I've started taking her back to the family picnics. In her pretty organdie and ribbons she's the loveliest girl there - a real southern belle.