“Somehow, under cover of sleep, the seed of the flower game had lingered in her mind all night, to blossom in the morning.” Miss Anne gently blinked at such mysteries, looking before her at the dissolving playground sets.
“Oh-h, if that isn’t the sweetest child-story!” burst from Sally in subdued applause. “I’m so glad that you told it to us, satisfied our curiosity.”
“Yes, and we’ll have such a pretty little anecdote to relate, in turn, at our next Council Fire gathering—when we’re supposed to tell of some kind deed which we’ve seen done—about how the Morning-Glory danced with the dumb child, gave her such a good time this morning. I wish I could write it up in verse—even blank verse,” yearned Arline aspiringly. “You’ll be there, won’t you, Miss Anne?”
“Of course she will; it’s to be held outdoors, if the weather is fine, upon the lake shore at the foot of Wigwam Hill, where you can almost see the ghosts of Indians—who camped there in numbers, nearly two hundred years ago—moving about. Of course she’ll be there and Captain Andy, too, to see me light a fire without matches and watch us dance the Leaf Dance!” Sesooā whirled like an orange leaf in a gust of reinstated enthusiasm. “Hurrah for our Morning-Glory Camp Fire! Hurrah and hurrah again for Camp Morning-Glory—our camp that is to be—on the far-away Sugarloaf!” her mind’s eye exploring those white Sugarloaf dunes, amid which she would revel, Puck-like, fairy-like, by the light of the Green Corn Moon.
CHAPTER IV
A LAKESIDE COUNCIL FIRE
“Wo-he-lo for aye,
Wo-he-lo for aye, Wo-he-lo,
Wo-he-lo, Wo-he-lo for aye!
Wo-he-lo for work,