The Song of The Debutante which the Wise Virgin chanteth in her heart:
Oh, Providence in thy mercy, I beseech Thee, grant me these three:
A level head, a soft tongue, and a sense of humor! And the greatest of
these is a _sense of humor_.
Lo, I do not ask for wealth, neither for beauty, nor for love; for,
having a level head, and a soft tongue, all these things shall be added
unto me.
I sigh not for the charms of an houri; and curling hair I shall not
crave. Yea, though _one_ husband be all that is granted unto me in this
day of Progressive Matrimony, I shall not murmur.
Though my waist-line increaseth, year by year, and my teeth depart one
by one, I shall not be cast down. For, a cheerful disposition shall
sustain me, and the smile that cometh not off shall keep me charming.
Though chorus girls marry above me; though I never build mine own
bungalow; though my frocks be made over, and my complexion made up, I
shall not repine.
For, behold, I shall not take myself _seriously_, neither be filled
with false _illusions_ concerning men.
Lo, a woman that regardeth herself seriously is a human joke; and
a woman that dallyeth with illusions is as a babe that played with
matches. She burneth her own fingers.
Though my cooking be deadly, and my shoes “number fives” I shall not
despair. For a sense of humor shall cover me as a mackintosh, off which
the lemons, that fate casteth at me, shall roll as water. Verily,
verily, a woman without a sense of humor is as one that goeth into New
Jersey clad in lace hose. She layeth herself bare to constant _stings_;
she suffereth untold pangs.
Then grant me, I pray thee, this one panacea:
That I may laugh when men laugh, and the point of their jokes shall not
escape me.
That I may not tremble at their wrath; neither wither under their
sarcasm, nor repine at their grouches.
And that, all the days of my youth, I shall dwell in the enjoyment of
life, repartee, and the pursuit of an husband! Amen.