So with much animated discussion, the flag grew apace. Nobody was exactly sure whether the outer stripe should be red or white, and for economical reasons, Peggy decided on the latter. “We’ll begin with white, girls, for that will make seven white stripes and only six red ones. And we’ve got plenty of white towel, while red ribbon is a little scarce.”
Another perplexing question arose when Peggy had sacrificed the dark blue sailor collar of an old blouse, to form the blue field in the upper corner of the flag. “Now we can cut white stars out of paper and sew them on,” exclaimed Peggy, standing back to admire her handiwork. “How many are there, anyway?”
Nobody was able to answer. Peggy gazed around the circle with a mingling of indignation and incredulity.
“What! All of us high school girls and not know how many states there are in the Union! This is really awful. Aunt Abigail, you must know.”
“Dear me, child,” replied Aunt Abigail serenely, “I have an impression that there were in the neighborhood of thirty-six at the time of the Centennial Exposition. And since then I’ve lost track.”
“I wonder if we could count them up,” mused Peggy, wrinkling her forehead. “Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont–”
“What’s the use?” protested Amy. “Who counts the stars on the flag, anyway? We’ll crowd in forty or fifty, enough to pretty well cover the blue, and it will look all right.”
Ruth had a suggestion to offer. “As long as this is a sort of Betsy Ross flag, why not have thirteen stars, just as she had?”
As this proposal afforded a satisfactory solution to the difficulty, the thirteen stars were promptly cut from white paper and sewed in place, and the finished flag was draped above the fireplace. Peggy’s anticipations in regard to its shortcomings had been realized. The red stripes were not of uniform width, or of the same shade, and the blue field was a trifle small in proportion to the size of the flag, owing to the limitations of the original sailor collar. Yet when it was in place, with the stripes composed of Dorothy’s hair-ribbons drawn up artistically, so that the wrinkles didn’t show, the effect was most impressive. And along with their pride in their success, the girls experienced that indescribable thrill which is the heart’s response to the challenge of our national emblem.
“Now, girls,” Peggy was looking at the clock, “we’ve got time for just one thing more before we start to get dinner. Each one of us must write a patriotic conundrum, and then we’ll put them around at each other’s plates, and we’ll have to guess them before we can eat a mouthful.”