“Never pluck the flowers wantonly, least of all the sacred cherry blossom. When you wish the flower in your house, pluck out one branch, one flower. See, you have filled the front of your kimono, your sleeves, and your obi with the blossoms. Look at them!”
He held up the crushed branches to view. They drooped almost reproachfully at Billy.
“But, father,” he began again. “You did tell me—”
“To gather all the cherry-blossom petals you could. See, the ground is thick with them.”
“But they are all apart. They have no stalks.”
Mr. Kurukawa stooped and filled his hands full of petals. He held them a moment and then lightly tossed them into the air.
“That is how we want them, boy. We use them like confetti. Now fill all your sleeves, children. Get as many as you can, and then we’ll start.”
Soon the long sleeves of their dresses were filled with the petals, and hung like little pillows. Mrs. Kurukawa was the last to join the merry party. All the children helped her to fill her sleeves, for she, too, wore the national kimono.
“Here are your masks, children,” said the father. With laughing chatter they fastened on the grotesque masks and clambered into the jinrikishas. It was a joyful day.
They passed numbers of picnickers, and exchanged showers of cherry-blossom petals with them.