ose, "and I will help you write it. I can draw a
little, and I have a box of water-colors. I will make little pictures
here and there so that Mrs. Stoddard can see the places."

"Oh, Rose! That will be fine. Shall we begin the book to-morrow?"

Anne was soon in bed, but there were so many wonderful things to think
of that she lay long awake.

The Freeman household rose at an early hour. After breakfast Mrs.
Freeman said: "Now, Anne, we will make believe that you are my own
little girl, and I will tell you what to do to help me, just as I do
Rose. You see," she added with a little laugh, "that I am like
Frederick. I like to play that all sorts of pleasant things are really
true."

Anne smiled back. "I like to make-believe, too," she said.

"Then we'll begin right now. You can help Rose put the chambers in
order, and dust the dining-room. After that Rose can show you the
attic, if you want to see where the children play on stormy days, or you
may do whatever you please."

"The attic will be the very place for Anne to write her book," said
Rose, and told her mother of their plan.

It was a very happy morning for Anne. Rose tied a big white apron around
her neck, gave her a duster of soft cloth, and showed her just how to
make a bed neatly, and put a room in order. Then, when the work was
finished, the girls went up the narrow stairs to the attic, a long
unfinished room running the whole length of the house with windows at
each end. Under one of these windows stood a broad low table. Rose had
brought up the blank book, a number of pens, made from goose-quills, and
a bottle of ink. She put them on the table and drew up a high-backed
wooden chair for Anne. "I'll sit in this rocking-chair at the end of the
table with my knitting," said Rose.

Anne looked about the attic, and thought that the Freeman children had
everything in the world. There was a big wooden rocking-horse, purchased
for Frederick, but now belonging to Millicent. There were boxes of
blocks, a row of dolls beside a trunk, a company of tin soldiers, and
on a tiny table was spread out a little china tea-set. It was rather
hard for Anne to turn away from all these treasures and sit down at the
table. She had never seen so many toys in all her life, and she thought
she would like to bring her own wooden doll, "Martha Stoddard," that her
father had made for her years ago, up to the attic to visit with these
beautiful dolls of china, wax, and kid. But Rose h