They piled into the trolley, rather sleepy with the long day in the wind, and, except for Marie and Edith, rather crumpled. Winnie’s blouse had a grass-stain, and Louise’s was marked neatly across the back, like a Japanese stencil, with a wet brown bough-mark. There were also burrs, more or less, on everybody. But what were burrs?
Everybody heaved a sight of contentment as they settled down in their seats.
“It certainly was a lovely picnic!” they said.
“How beautifully fresh and clean Edith Hillis keeps her dresses!” said Mrs. Merriam to Winnie, as Edith turned to wave good-bye at the Merriam gate, and went down the street with Marie and Helen. “You’d think that pink dress had just been washed and ironed, and yet she’s been out in the woods with the rest of you tousled-looking children all day!”
And Winona laughed so that it was at least two minutes before she could explain.
CHAPTER FIVE
“I’d advise you girls to hurry up with those squaw dresses,” hinted Tom Merriam darkly, as he fled through the sitting-room on his way back from Scout-practice.
Winnie looked up. She and Helen and Louise were sitting in a row on the window-seat, sewing for dear life on their ceremonial gowns.
“We are hurrying all we can,” she smiled. “These have to be done by to-night anyway.”
“They are, nearly,” chimed in Louise, shaking out her garment and observing its fringes with satisfaction. “What’s he talking about, Win?”