The kids, a racially diverse, chatty bunch, didn't fit the usual image of tensely silent prima donnas casting suspicious glances at each other. Several knew the studio and each other from the company's summer program. "It's like a reunion!" one girl said. Frank Emas, the only male dancer, added, "You know she's going to be all, 'Arms! Arms!'" referring to the style of Davis, who led most of the audition. "It's better because we've been dancing together. We're comfortable," explained Rebecca Golembeski, 17. Emas joked, "We know what spots are good and which are bad. I know where to stand! ... Just kidding. It's a good floor." Would they have preferred to audition in front of their parents, who weren't allowed to come until the end? "No!" the kids burst out in an immediate chorus. "I can't do that," one of the girls added fervently.

And then they danced, leaping one by one across the room. They weren't all equally skilled, but they were poised and professional even when they flubbed steps (although one tiny blond girl, who reached about to the waists of the older kids, lost her nerve and stood with her hands behind her back in the corner before darting over to join the little crowd of observers on folding chairs in the corner). They followed Davis and another helper through short sequences of ballet, jazz and contemporary dance (most awesome musical selection? A song by Clinic, the British band that performs in scrubs and anesthetic masks). "We want them to turn into very versatile performers," says Davis, which is why she chose a set of eclectic moves.

And the judges were eclectic, too. In addition to a dancer from Philadanco and one from the Pennsylvania Ballet, on the panel were two local worthies, of a sort: NBC 10's John Ogden and Miss Philadelphia 2006 Mary Kaye Jacono. Sadly, Gervase Peterson (Survivor season one, back in the day) was a no-show.

Fifteen minutes later, the winner was announced: 13-year-old Cazica Hunter, a diminutive girl who lives in Langhorne and has been dancing since she was 2. Her mother was near tears, but her little brother, dressed in a black karate uniform, kept scrunching up his face at everyone. So many hours in the studio — Davis' program is about 10 hours a week, and Cazica also takes classes with Philadanco — makes it difficult to see her friends, she said, but "they're my friends, so they understand. And they're like, it'll all pay off someday."