Free Second Form at Malory Towers by Enid Blyton Page A

over.”
    “We've got those awful French plays to mug up now.” groaned Alicia. “Whatever possessed the two Mam'zelles to think up such a horrible thing for the second form to do? Who wants to see us perform French plays?”
    Each form had to produce some sort of entertainment at the end of the term. It was the lot of the second form to learn two French plays, one chosen by Mam'zelle Dupont, the other by Mam'zelle Rougier.
    It was over the choosing of the girls to play the different characters in these plays that the two Mam'zelles almost came to blows.
    In one play there was a Princess—the Princess True-Heart. In the other there was an angel—the Angel of Goodness. Mam'zelle Dupont wanted her favourite, Daphne, to play both parts. She pictured the pretty, golden-haired girl as the Princess—ah, how wonderful she would look! And as an angel! Truly Daphne was made for the part of an angel!
    But Mam'zelle Rougier unfortunately had quite different ideas. “What! You would choose that imbecile of a Daphne to play two good parts like that!” scoffed Mam'zelle Rougier. “She could never learn half the words—and her pronunciation is AB-OM-IN-ABLE! You know it I will not have that girl in a good part.”
    “Ah, but she will look the part to perfection,” cried Mam'zelle Dupont, sweeping her arms wide apart to emphasize her words. “She looks a real Princess—and when she smiles, it is truly the smile of an angel.”
    “Bah!” said Mam'zelle Rougier, rudely. “She is one of your favourites, your little pets. Now Sally would do well in one of those parts—she would learn well and her pronunciation is good. Or Darrell. Or even Mary-Lou would be better than Daphne, for she at least speaks French as it should be spoken.”
    “You are mad!” cried Mam'zelle Dupont. “As if any of those girls could play such parts as these. I insist on Daphne playing the parts.”
    Then I shall not have anything to do with the plays,” said Mam'zelle Rougier stiffly. “It is always a mistake to do as you do. Mam'zelle Dupont, and have favourites—and when it comes to forcing them on me, it is finished!”

    “I do not have favourites!” said Mam'zelle Dupont, untruthfully, tapping her foot on the ground. “I like all the girls just the same.”
    Mam'zelle Rougier snorted disbelievingly. “Then you are the only one who thinks so,” she said. “Good day, Mam'zelle. I cannot stand arguing here, talking nonsense about such girls as Daphne.”
    She swung round and walked off stiffly, holding her thin bony body like a stick. Flump little Mam'zelle Dupont stared after her angrily. Favourites, indeed I How dared Mam'zelle say things like that to her? Never would she speak to Mam'zelle Rougier again. Never, never, never! She would leave Malory Towers. She would go back to her beloved France. She would write to the newspapers about it. Mam'zelle Dupont made a noise nice the growling of a dog and startled Miss Potts considerably as she came in at the door.
    “Don't you feel well, Mam'zelle?” she said, rather alarmed at Mam'zelle's red face and glaring eyes.
    “I do not feel at all well. I have been insulted,” said Mam'zelle Dupont. “I am not to be allowed to choose the girls in my own plays. Mam'zelle Rougier objects to my choosing the pretty, charming Daphne for the Princess. She will not even allow me—me, Mam'zelle Dupont—to give her the part of the Angel of Good-ness!”
    “Well. I must say I agree with her,” said Miss Potts, sitting down and arranging her papers. “Daphne always seems a double-faced little creature to me.”
    “You too are in the plot against me!” said Mam'zelle going all dramatic, and working herself up into a tearful rage. “You too! Ah, these cold English people! Ah, these...”
    Miss Potts was very glad indeed to hear a knock, at the door at that moment. She didn't like dealing with Mam'zelle in these moods. Matron came in, smiling.
    “Can I have a word with you, Mam'zelle?” she