“Well, you did the scales very nicely.”
Again Chicken Little paused.
Her conscience was pricking. On the chair beside her mother was a glowing pile of odd ribbons and old artificial flowers and her mother’s kindness suddenly made the child realize that the Grimm hadn’t been quite fair—she did not like the feeling of not playing fair. She twisted the handle of the door trying to muster up courage to confess, but Mrs. Morton was in a hurry to finish her letters.
“Run along now. Here are some things for you and here’s the dime. I am busy, dear.”
And Chicken Little feeling that the Fates had excused her, flew off joyfully to join the girls.
The fence corner was swept and garnished. An old lumber pile and several soap boxes had been pressed into service for shelves and counters and were artistically covered with an old lace curtain. Gertie was just putting a vase of real flowers on a table as a finishing touch, when Jane came up.
“Um-m, isn’t that too sweet for anything, and see what I’ve got!”
“Look at this! It’s most done,” Katy held up an adorable creation of white tulle and pink rosebuds which her nimble fingers had almost completed.
She dispatched Gertie and Chicken Little to Mrs. Smith’s for more flowers while she trimmed away industriously. It was a very happy Saturday. The fame of it spread throughout the neighborhood and the three little girls were kept busy snipping and fussing with the tiny headgear. Katy had natural style and taste and some of the little hats were really charming.
The boys dropped over once or twice to see what was going on. Finally, they were so fired by this business enterprise that they started a lemonade stand just outside the front gate, having painfully secured a capital of five lemons by dint of much coaxing of mothers and maids.