her flying yellow hair, and her long, slim legs.

The children gathered up their baskets and Peggy started to go to the
grocery store when her attention was caught by the melodious singing of
Mrs. Butler's canary-bird. "He's crazy about being alive, just as I am,"
thought Peggy. "I wish I could sing like that."

"I must just go and say good-morning to Mrs. Butler. See, she's got the
window open and the cage hanging there. Don't you wish you could sing
like a canary-bird?"

"No, I don't. What strange things you do think up!"

"Well, I'd like to sing like one," said Peggy, "because it sounds so
joyous, and there's never anything I can do to show how joyous I feel."

Mrs. Butler came to the open window, to speak to the children. She
didn't look at all joyous, for she had been having rheumatism, but this
warm day made her feel better.

"Won't you come in?" she asked. "I've just baked some gingerbread. You
must be hungry. Come in and let me give you some."

Peggy was about to say that they had already had some gingerbread, but
she had only had one piece, and it seemed to make her hungry for more.
She knew she ought not to stop again, but the temptation was too great.
So they went into Mrs. Butler's cool parlor. This time it was crisp,
thin gingerbread. One could eat several pieces and it seemed nothing at
all. And all the time, the canary-bird in the sunshine was singing his
glad song, "Spring is coming, spring is really coming," he seemed to
say, "and there will be daffodils out, and tulips and Mayflowers. And
the days will grow longer and longer, and more and more sunshiny." A
clock on the mantelpiece struck the half-hour. That was not a joyous
sound.

"I guess I ought to be going," said Peggy. "Mother told me to hurry and
not to stop on the way."

"Mother told me she was in a hurry for the butter and eggs," said
Christopher. "I'll have to go right home."

Christopher left Peggy when they came to her old house, which was now
his, and she felt a little pang of regret when she saw how pleasant it
looked with its new coat of paint, behind the two horse-chestnut trees,
which would soon be coming into blossom. At one of the upper windows she
saw a boy who she was sure must be the poet, and she hurried by, very
conscious of her long legs.

The grocery store was a place full of interest--there were such
delightful things to be seen. There was a box full of oranges and
another full of grapefruit, and a lady was buying