How our fingers flew! It was just a quarter to six when every cap was finished, and each girl had decided upon her special color. We hadn't the ribbon to make our bows, and were obliged to wait till somebody should go to the city to procure it; but each girl knew her favorite color, and that was a comfort. Linda Curtis chose blue, and I would wear rose-tints (my parents did not insist on my wearing Quaker gray, and I dressed like "the world's people"), Veva chose old gold, and each of the others had a preference.
"You will look like a field of daisies and clover, dearies," said grandmamma.
"There!" cried Jeanie. "Why not have a four-leaved clover as our badge? There isn't anything prettier."
The four-leaved clover carried the day, though one or two did speak for the daisy, the maiden-hair fern and the pussy willow. All this was before the subject of the national flower had been agitated.
"Where are my pupils?" Miss Muffet appeared promptly at the hour, and wore a most business-like air as she began her instructions. "Compressed yeast has found its way to Bloomdale, my dears," she said, "so that I shall not have to begin by telling you how to make yeast. That useful lesson may wait till another day. Before we do anything, I will give you some rules for good family bread, and you may write them down, if you please.
"1. Always sift your flour thoroughly."
Seven pencils wrote that rule in seven notebooks.
"2. Mix the dough as soft as it can be handled. You must never have it too stiff.
"3. Set it to rise in a moderately warm place.
"4. You cannot knead bread too much. The more it is kneaded the firmer, sweeter and lighter it will be."