That was exactly what Marian did not remember. At first she wrote:
"No flower is so pretty as the anemone that blooms on the windy hill."
At recess she consulted Miss Smith. "Is that long enough?" she asked.
"Yes, that will do," was the reply.
"Is it fair if I copy off her composition?" asked Tommy Perkins, "and practice writing it? I can't make up one."
"That sentence will do as well as any other," agreed Miss Smith. "I simply wish you to write something you choose to do."
Marian beamed upon Tommy. "I'll copy it for you," she said. "I don't really think anemones are the prettiest flowers, Tommy, but they are easy to write; no ups or downs in the word if the flowers themselves do dance like fairies all the day long."
"I wish't you'd write me a composition," put in Frankie Bean.
"I will," assented Marian, "after school calls, but now, come on out and play."
After recess, Marian passed Frankie a piece of paper upon which was written this: