"What is the matter with the May-queen?" her mother asked.
Two tears started to Eleanor's eyes and she hid her head on her mother's shoulder. "I want to be May-queen so much," she said in a stifled voice.
"Well, dearie, I don't see anything to grieve you in that."
"Do you think I ought to give up to Florence or Jessie? It seems mean not to give them the chance."
Her mother smiled. "I don't think you are called upon to do anything of the kind. You were chosen fairly by the class, and you have no more right to refuse than if a presidential candidate were to say: 'Mr. So-and-so wants so much to be president. I'll give my place to him.' It is very kind of my little girl to think of such a thing, but I don't think it would do. Let the matter rest as it is. Every one will have a good time, and next year, or upon some other occasion, perhaps Jessie will have another chance."
"But Florence won't."
"Maybe she will. We might have a May party of our own next year in Florence's honor, and then she could be queen and Jessie maid of honor, if that would do."
"Oh, mamma, that is a lovely plan for you to think of, I feel real comfortable now."
And, therefore, with not a cloud to mar their pleasure the children started off for the May party. The little pony, which they had named Spice, wore a garland around his neck, and when Eleanor, dressed in white, with her maid of honor by her side, appeared in the little flower-decked pony-cart, a shout arose from the children, and with one accord they began to sing "God save the Queen."
Then Eleanor was helped down by two of her gentlemen-in-waiting, and was conducted to her throne; her crown was placed upon her head and her sceptre in her hand. Then a merry, merry time they had dancing around the May-pole, weaving in and out with their many-hued ribbons. The lookers-on in Mr. Atkinson's garden said it was the prettiest sight the town had seen in a long time.