Comes the Dawn 

the spring, clad all in gladness, doth laugh at winter's sadness 

Don't sell short the month of May. Just because Nelson Eddy and Jeanette MacDonald got so sticky about it with all that Springtime-Lovetime-Maytime corn is no reason to dismiss the whole bit. Things usually get cornball only because there's something good about them to begin with . . . and May has much to recommend it. It's the time when even indoor men feel the tug of the wide open spaces and hearken to the call of the wild. There's nothing gauche in packing a basket full of tasty viands, filling a thermos jug to the brim with Martinis, collaring a bright-eyed and obliging damozel, hopping into the heap and setting your sights on some sylvan glade. "Now is the month of maying," ran the old madrigal, "when merry lads are playing; each with his bonny lass, a-dancing on the grass." It's a great idea, we think -- especially if the bonny lass is Dawn Richard, this month's Playmate.