What Katy Did | Page 6

sweetness: "I am a fairy,
Dorry!"
"Pshaw!" was Dorry's reply; "you're a giraffe--Pa said so!"

The Path of Peace got its name because of its darkness and coolness.
High bushes almost met over it, and trees kept it shady, even in the
middle of the day. A sort of white flower grew there, which the
children called Pollypods, because they didn't know the real name.
They staid a long while picking bunches of these flowers, and then
John and Dorry had to grub up an armful of sassafras roots; so that
before they had fairly gone through Toadstool Avenue, Rabbit Hollow,
and the rest, the sun was just over their heads, and it was noon.
"I'm getting hungry," said Dorry.
"Oh, no, Dorry, you mustn't be hungry till the bower is ready!" cried
the little girls, alarmed, for Dorry was apt to be disconsolate if he was
kept waiting for his meals. So they made haste to build the bower. It
did not take long, being composed of boughs hung over skipping-ropes,
which were tied to the very poplar-tree where the fairy lived who had
recommended sassafras tea to the Fairy of the Rose.
When it was done they all cuddled in underneath. It was a very small
bower--just big enough to hold them, and the baskets, and the kitten. I
don't think there would have been room for anybody else, not even
another kitten. Katy, who sat in the middle, untied and lifted the lid of
the largest basket, while all the rest peeped eagerly to see what was
inside.
First came a great many ginger cakes. These were carefully laid on the
grass to keep till wanted: buttered biscuit came next--three apiece, with
slices of cold lamb laid in between; and last of all were a dozen
hard-boiled eggs, and a layer of thick bread and butter sandwiched with
corn-beef. Aunt Izzie had put up lunches for Paradise before, you see,
and knew pretty well what to expect in the way of appetite.
Oh, how good everything tasted in that bower, with the fresh wind
rustling the poplar leaves, sunshine and sweet wood-smells about them,
and birds singing overhead! No grown-up dinner party ever had half so
much fun. Each mouthful was a pleasure; and when the last crumb had
vanished, Katy produced the second basket, and there, oh, delightful
surprise! were seven little pies--molasses pies, baked in saucers--each

with a brown top and crisp candified edge, which tasted like toffy and
lemon-peel, and all sorts of good things mixed up together.
There was a general shout. Even demure Cecy was pleased, and Dorry
and John kicked their heels on the ground in a tumult of joy. Seven
pairs of hands were held out at once toward the basket; seven sets of
teeth went to work without a moment's delay. In an incredibly short
time every vestige of the pie had disappeared, and a blissful stickiness
pervaded the party.
"What shall we do now?" asked Clover, while little Phil tipped the
baskets upside down, as if to make sure there was nothing left that
could possibly be eaten.
"I don't know," replied Katy, dreamily. She had left her seat, and was
half-sitting, half-lying on the low, crooked bough of a butternut tree,
which hung almost over the children's heads.
"Let's play we're grown up," said Cecy, "and tell what we mean to do."
"Well," said Clover, "you begin. What do you mean to do?"
"I mean to have a black silk dress, and pink roses in my bonnet, and a
white muslin long-shawl," said Cecy; "and I mean to look exactly like
Minerva Clark! I shall be very good, too; as good as Mrs. Bedell, only
a great deal prettier. All the young gentlemen will want me to go and
ride, but I shan't notice them at all, because you know I shall always be
teaching in Sunday-school, and visiting the poor. And some day, when
I am bending over an old woman and feeding her with currant jelly, a
poet will come along and see me, and he'll go home and write a poem
about me," concluded Cecy, triumphantly.
"Pooh!" said Clover. "I don't think that would be nice at all. I'm going
to be a beautiful lady--the most beautiful lady in the world! And I'm
going to live in a yellow castle, with yellow pillars to the portico, and a
square thing on top, like Mr. Sawyer's. My children are going to have a
play-house up there. There's going to be a spy-glass in the window, to
look out of. I shall wear gold dresses and silver dresses every day, and

diamond rings, and have white satin aprons to tie on when I'm dusting,
or doing anything dirty. In the middle of my back-yard there will be a
pond-full