all; but Ed had evidently prepared his poem, for his paper was half
full already, and Merry was smiling as she wrote a friendly line or
two for Ralph’s basket, as she feared he would be forgotten, and
knew he loved kindness even more than he did beauty.
“Now let’s read them,” proposed Molly, who loved to laugh even at
herself.
The boys politely declined, and scrambled their notes into the
chosen baskets in great haste; but the girls were less bashful. Jill
was invited to begin, and gave her little piece, with the pink
hyacinth basket before her, to illustrate her poem.
“TO MY LADY
“There are no flowers in the fields,
No green leaves on the tree,
No columbines, no violets,
No sweet anemone.
So I have gathered from my pots
All that I have to fill
The basket that I hang to-night,
With heaps of love from Jill.”
“That’s perfectly sweet! Mine isn’t; but I meant it to be funny,” said
Molly, as if there could be any doubt about the following ditty:
“Dear Grif,
Here is a whiff
Of beautiful spring flowers;
The big red rose
Is for your nose,
As toward the sky it towers.
“Oh, do noi frown
Upon this crown
Of green pinks and blue geranium
But think of me
When this you see,
And put it on your cranium.”
“O Molly, you will never hear the last of that if Grif gets it,” said
Jill, as the applause subsided, for the boys pronounced it “tip-top.”
“Don’t care, he gets the worst of it anyway, for there is a pin in that
rose, and if he goes to smell the mayflowers underneath he will
find a thorn to pay for the tack he put in my rubber boot. I know he
will play me some joke to-night, and I mean to be first if I can,”
answered Molly, settling the artificial wreath round the
orange-colored canoe which held her effusion.
“Now, Merry, read yours: you always have sweet poems”; and Jill
folded her hands to listen with pleasure to something sentimental.
“I can’t read the poems in some of mine, because they are for you;
but this little verse you can hear, if you like: I’m going to give that
basket to Ralph. He said he should hang one for his grandmother,
and I thought that was so nice of him, I’d love to surprise him with
one all to himself. He’s always so good to us”; and Merry looked so
innocently earnest that no one smiled at her kind thought or the
unconscious paraphrase she had made of a famous stanza in her
own “little verse.”
“To one who teaches me
The sweetness and the beauty
Of doing faithfully
And cheerfully my duty.”
“He will like that, and know who sent it, for none of us have pretty
pink paper but you, or write such an elegant hand,” said Molly,
admiring the delicate white basket shaped like a lily, with the
flowers inside and the note hidden among them, all daintily tied up
with the palest blush-colored ribbon.
“Well, that’s no harm. He likes pretty things as much as I’d o, and I
made my basket like a flower because I gave him one of my callas,
he admired the shape so much”; and Merry smiled as she
remembered how pleased Ralph looked as he went away carrying
the lovely thing.
“I think it would be a good plan to hang some baskets on the doors
of other people who don’t expect or often have any. I’ll do it if you
can spare some of these, we have so many. Give me only one, and
let the others go to old Mrs. Tucker, and the little Irish girl who
has been sick so long, and lame Neddy, and Daddy Munson. It
would please and surprise them so. Will we?” asked Ed, in that
persuasive voice of his.
All agreed at once, and several people were made very happy by a
bit of spring left at their doors by the May elves who haunted the
town that night playing all sorts of pranks. Such a twanging of
bells and rapping of knockers; such a scampering of feet in the