They were military tops which Filippo had made himself. There was an American soldier, an Italian soldier, a British soldier, and a French soldier. Then there was a Red Cross nurse and a jolly sailor boy. But prettiest of all was a dainty little girl with butterfly skirts, dancing gracefully about among the stiff soldiers.
It was really wonderful, the way Filippo kept the tops spinning. Molly and May paid him a whole lira for the fun they had in watching them.
As they were about to leave the market place they heard a clear, beautiful whistle which made them stop and listen.
"It is my blackbird, signorine," called a little boy. "See, he is here in this cage. I caught him in the field and taught him how to whistle. Now he can whistle better than any other blackbird in Florence. Would you like to buy him?"
"Why, yes, of course we should! But we cannot take care of a bird while we are traveling. He will be happier with you. We will give you some pennies to buy food for him." So they dropped two big Italian pennies into the little boy's hat, while he bowed very politely.
One whole lovely afternoon was spent in motoring over the hills beyond the city of Florence. They saw groves of olive trees that were hundreds and hundreds of years old, and large vineyards where purple grapes were growing.
On a hilly road beyond a small village they passed two women who were bringing down from the woods great bundles of fagots on the backs of small donkeys. They would burn these fagots in their fireplace stoves at home, for wood and coal are hard to get in Italy.
Best of all the things the Sunbonnet Babies saw on this happy drive was a rollicking brook. It came tumbling down over big stones and under white birch trees close by the roadside. Beyond the brook was a trim little wheat field, bright with scarlet poppies.