“Modest and simple and sweet, the very type of Priscilla,
Priscilla, the Mayflower of Plymouth!”
Thus hummed Lillie as she walked around this winsome representation of that Puritan maiden, surveying her critically, but with approving eye.
“Oh, you’re just too sweet for anything!” warbled another bluebird, “you’re—”
“You’re too sweet to have to do your own proposing, methinks,” broke in Jessie, touching one of the long golden braids that fell from beneath the demure little cap of this first edition of women’s rights.
But at sweet Priscilla’s gentle reminder that the first lady of the land should not be kept waiting, the merry girls ceased their chatter, did their best to assume the decorous manners of the Puritan women, filed into line, and were soon in the adjoining room.
Here they were greeted by Dame Brewster, the Elder’s wife, no other than Helen, who, in ruffled cap and quaintly flowered gown, excelled even her own aspirations to appear like that motherly dame, as in speech of quaint wording she made each Mayflower damsel known to Mistress Carver.
After the greetings had been voiced, the first surprise came, and that was when the Tike came bounding into the midst of the gentle dames and informed them that a cheer fire was blazing on the grass-plot in the rear of the Hall. The Pioneers in profound wonder—as they had not expected to have a cheer fire—followed Mistress Carver to the garden, where a circle was formed around this magic inspirer of cheer, whose burning fagots snapped and crackled noisily, as if to do its share in the old-time celebration. It was in memory, Grace declared, of the many fires that had cheered the settlers in the cold and desolation of the new world.
Murmurs of wonder and queries about this mysterious surprise were silenced, as some one started a general clapping, a recognition often accorded the Pioneers’ cheer star. Then, as they gathered around the flaming light, some one suggested that perhaps the Governor’s lady could tell as to who was the magic fire-maker.
The lady in question, although disclaiming that she knew who lighted the magic inspirer, did finally admit that she could guess who had done it, but as that was a privilege that every one had, she had nothing to tell. However, the mystery remained unsolved, although some bright one ventured to suggest that it might have been the Sport, who was still missing, as she delighted to do the unexpected.
Immediately the missing Pioneer began to be eulogized for her clever and mysterious absence, as these representatives of hundreds of years ago circled about their emblem of cheer and romance. To usher in the first ceremony, or, as the girls sometimes called it “the christening of the blazer,” some one called for the story-teller to give one of her thrillers. This cry was forthwith taken up by the little company, and became so imperative that Lillie at last complied with the request, and in a few moments was telling, in her usual impressive way, the story of those pioneers, the Pilgrim men and women, who fought the first battle for liberty and union on the shores of this land.