"We ought certainly to take the prize," said Nan. "I don't believe there will be any prettier fix than ours."
"Oh, you country gal," cried Carter, "a fix, indeed. What a way to speak of my beautiful white car."
"Do we start from here, or do we go to Pasadena first and get things in order?" asked Mary Lee.
"You girls would better start from here," said Mrs. Roberts; "you will have a better chance to adorn yourselves, and Carter can meet you at the hotel."
But Carter would none of this; he would not consent to starting on ahead. "Nine miles is nothing for an automobile," he said, "and I'll let her go slow so the decorations will be in no danger of whizzing off. Besides, we'll have a much better chance to get the car looking all right and note the effect."
Mr. Pinckney threw himself heart and soul into the fun. He posted off to Pasadena early to engage the "place of vantage" where the onlooking elders could be posted to see the parade, and where he could engage a table for their dinner. It was all vastly exciting, the children thought. Jean rocked herself back and forth with delight as she sat on the veranda floor watching Nan and Mary Lee make the crowns. "Did you ever think we'd have such lovely story-book times," she said. "I could screal, I'm so happy."
"I wouldn't," returned Nan. "Screaling is for scralid scraws, and scrirming screaky pigs with crirky tails, and not for little girls of craulity."
"Oh, Nan," protested Jean, "you make such fun of me; do be criet."
"So I will, if you will promise not to criver so with excitement," Nan replied. "Hand me those scissors, please. 'She wore a wreath of roses,'" she sang, deftly tossing the crown of yellow flowers on Jean's head. "There, you look crite like a little creen."
In the pride of her coronet Jean forgot to notice the teasing and ran off to show herself to her mother.