embrance came, and a big tear spilled out and ran down her
cheek. Miss Princess, in the midst of a laugh, looked down and spied it.

"Why, darling, what is it?" she cried anxiously.

"My Pink Dress--I just happened to think of it. But it doesn't really
make any difference." However Missy's eyes were wet and shining with an
emotion she couldn't quite control.

With eyes which were shining with many emotions, the man and girl, over
her head, regarded each other. It was the man who spoke first, slowing
down the car as he did so.

"Don't you think we'd better run back to Miss Martin's and get it?"

For answer, his sweetheart leaned across Missy and kissed him.

A fifteen minutes' delay, and again the Ford was headed towards
Somerville and the County Courthouse; but now an additional passenger,
a big brown box, was hugged between Missy's knees. In the County
Courthouse she did not forget to guard this box tenderly all the
time Young Doc and Miss Princess were scurrying around musty offices,
interviewing important, shirt-sleeved men, and signing papers--not even
when she herself was permitted to sign her name to an imposing document,
"just for luck," as Doc laughingly said.

Then he bent his head to hear what Miss Princess wanted to whisper to
him, and they both laughed some more; and then he said something to
the shirtsleeved men, and they laughed; and then--O, it is a wonderful
world!--Miss Princess took her into a dusty, paper-littered inner
office, lifted the Pink Dress out of the box, dressed Missy up in it,
fluffed out the "wave" in her front hair, and exclaimed that she was the
loveliest little flower-girl in the whole world.

"Even without the flower-hat and the pink stockings?"

"Even without the flower-hat and the pink stockings," said Miss Princess
with such assurance that Missy cast off doubt forever.

After the Wedding--and never in Romance was such a gay, laughing
Wedding--when again they were all packed in the Ford, Missy gave a
contented sigh.

"I kind of knew it," she confided. "For I dreamed it all, two nights
running. Both times I had on the Pink Dress, and both times it was Doc.
I'm so happy it's Doc."

And over her head the other two looked in each other's eyes.

CHAPTER III. LIKE A SINGING BIRD

She was fourteen, going on fifteen; and the world was a fascinating
place. There were people who found Cherryvale a dull, poky little town
to live in, but not Melissa. Not even in winter,