"Hattie," said Gracie, drawing her "intimate friend" into a corner during recess, "did you tell Maggie Bradford what I said about her being Queen twice?"
"Well—no," said Hattie, hesitating at first, but then uttering her denial boldly as she saw the frown gathering upon Gracie's brow.
Gracie looked at her as if she only half believed her, for she was learning to doubt Hattie's word, and although she was greedy of her flattery, she could not help feeling that her chosen friend was not sincere.
"You know you've told a good many things I did not mean you to," said Gracie, "and I wouldn't like not to be friends with Maggie, or to let her think I'm hateful."
And Hattie declared over and over again that she had never said one word to Maggie on the subject.
"I do feel badly about it," said Gracie remorsefully. "I wish I had never said I thought Maggie ought not to be May Queen. Maggie's been my friend this ever so long, since I was quite little; and I believe I had rather the girls chose her. I've a good mind to write her a note, and tell her I wish she would be Queen."
All the other children had left the school-room to go down and play on the piazza, and Gracie and Hattie were alone together.
"I wouldn't," said Hattie; "you are the one who ought to be May Queen, 'cause you are the smartest child in the school."
Gracie believed this, and thought Hattie gave her no more than her due; still, although she liked to hear Hattie say it, the compliment did not turn her from her purpose.