Pale, weak, but quivering with joy, the pilgrims gathered on the Mayflower's decks.
Rose Standish was but the shadow of her sweet self. Constance lingered to give the final touches to Rose's toilette; they were all striving to make some little festal appearance to their garments suitably to greet the New World.
"I can hardly go up, dear Connie," murmured Rose. "The Mayflower hath taken all the vigour from this poor rose."
"When the mayflower goes, the rose blooms," said Constance. "Wait till we get ashore and you are in your own warm, cozy home!"
Rose shook her head, but made an effort to greet Captain Myles brightly as he came to help her to the deck.
"What land are we to see, Myles? Where are we?" she asked.
"Gosnold's country of Cape Cod, rose of the world," said Captain Myles. "It lies just ahead. Have a care, Constance; don't trip. Here we are, then!"
They took their places in a sheltered nook and waited. The Billington boys had clambered high aloft and no one reproved them. Though their pranks were always calling forth a reprimand from some one, this time no one blamed them, but rather envied them for getting where they could see land first of all.
Sharply Francis Billington's boyish voice rang out:
"Land! Land! Land!" he shouted.