ll confessed afterwards to a
feeling of nervousness as to what was going to happen to her, for the
day before, without a moment's notice, she had been literally showered
with hankies by the little First-Formers. However, Sally May was
discovered on her feet about to make a speech. Sally May, usually so
glib of tongue, moistened her lips several times, and then, holding out
the bouquet, she delivered at breakneck speed the little speech which
she had composed--and fortunately memorized--for the occasion.

"Had the fright of my life, my dear," she whispered to Judith
afterwards. "I felt like Alice in Wonderland growing taller and taller
every moment--expected to be lost in the tree-tops. I'll never, never,
never try to make a speech again."

Miss Meredith, who had also been presented with a bunch of lovely roses,
leaned forward to examine Miss Ashwell's.

"Yours seems to be an unusually interesting bouquet, my dear," she
observed. "May I see one of those butterflies? He seems to be on an
apple-tree bough." And unfolding the wings of the butterfly--the
butterflies were Five B's idea--she read:

"Drifting from the apple boughs, foam of pink and white
Rippling through the branches in the green spring light;
All the elfin breezes in the world, you see,
Have come to play at snowflakes in your apple tree."

"_Your_ apple tree! how charming!" said Miss Meredith; "who is the fairy
godmother who is going to give you such a fascinating tree?" And taking
up the little wooden tag she read, "St. Lawrence Apple, Frances Purdy."

"Miss Ashwell must read the next one," said Joyce after Frances's rhyme
had been applauded, and she grinned rather wickedly as Miss Ashwell
took the green branch held out to her and read the tag:

"Black currants, you know,
In your garden which grow,
Have more uses than perhaps you would think;
When hubby's in bed, with a cold in his head,
You may give him a black-currant drink."

Miss Ashwell's cheeks were as pink as the lovely rose from whose stalk
she hurriedly took the next verse:

"Roses pink and white and nodding,
Roses drenched with dew;
What would you have but roses
By a cottage built for two?"

Rosamond's effort was the signal for a burst of merriment:

"This bush will bring you wit and mirth,
You'll happy be and merry,
For in your house you'll neve