“I know what it is! Oh, how sweet!” added Merry, sniffing, as Ed set the box before her, saying pleasantly,—
“You shall see first, because you had faith.”
Up went the cover, and a whiff of the freshest fragrance regaled the seven eager noses bent to inhale it, as a general murmur of pleasure greeted the nest of great, rosy mayflowers that lay before them.
“The dear things, how lovely they are!” and Merry looked as if greeting her cousins, so blooming and sweet was her own face.
Molly pushed her dingy garlands away, ashamed of such poor attempts beside these perfect works of nature, and Jill stretched out her hand involuntarily, as she said, forgetting her exotics, “Give me just one to smell of, it is so woodsy and delicious.”
“Here you are, plenty for all. Real Pilgrim Fathers, right from Plymouth. One of our fellows lives there, and I told him to bring me a good lot; so he did, and you can do what you like with them,” explained Ed, passing round bunches and shaking the rest in a mossy pile upon the table.
“Ed always gets ahead of us in doing the right thing at the right time. Hope you've got some first-class baskets ready for him,” said Gus, refreshing the Washingtonian nose with a pink blossom or two.
“Not much danger of his being forgotten,” answered Molly; and every one laughed, for Ed was much beloved by all the girls, and his door-steps always bloomed like a flower-bed on May eve.
“Now we must fly round and fill up. Come, boys, sort out the green and hand us the flowers as we want them. Then we must direct them, and, by the time that is done, you can go and leave them,” said Jill, setting all to work.
“Ed must choose his baskets first. These are ours; but any of those you can have;” and Molly pointed to a detachment of gay baskets, set apart from those already partly filled.