“I can’t tell. Come in!”
“Walk down to the ‘Forget-me-not’ with us, you two,” said Priscilla. “My allowance has come, and I’m treating. This is the first hot chocolate and cake day. Jess Blackmore was down yesterday, and they told her. What’s the matter, Lucile? You look sad.”
“I’ll have to change my shoes,” said Dorothy. “Will you wait?”
“Yes, if you hurry. What’s up, Lucile?”
Lucile, glad of an audience, returned to her old grievance.
“I don’t think it’s fair,” she complained. “Virginia, if you had the Pioneers, why need I have the Pilgrim Fathers?”
“Why, I’d have soon had the Pilgrim Fathers,” Virginia explained, “but I think real Americans ought to be just as proud of the Pioneers, because they were every bit as brave. They crossed the mountains to find new lands, and made homes in the wilderness, and fought Indians and wild animals. And no one here in New England seems to care about them. So I asked if I mightn’t take them myself to give them a tribute.”
“Oh, that’s what a Pioneer is,” said Lucile reflectively. “Well, why couldn’t I take the Storming of the Bastille? My great grandfather helped. The Blackmores have Ethan Allen.”
Dorothy sighed very audibly as she laced her boots. She was apparently dead sick of the Pilgrim Fathers.
“But, you see, Lucile,” Virginia again explained, “Miss Wallace wants you to be more American now you’re here at school, because your mother is American, and that’s why she wants you to take the Pilgrim Fathers, so you’ll appreciate your country more.”