The lane was all trimmed with beautiful
spring flowers for Easter, and the trees beside the road were full of
birds, all singing Easter songs.
She went through Auntie Brooke's squeaky gate and along the gravel
path to the side door. An old lady with a sweet face sat out on the
doorstep.
"Auntie Brooke," said Molly, a little out of breath, "I've brought you
an Easter egg, only it isn't laid yet. You may keep Red Top until she
lays it, and then you can give her back. You'll have to excuse there
not being any pink on it and your name in gilt letters, but Red Top
didn't lay it in time for that."
"Thank you, dear," said Auntie Brooke, trying not to laugh. "I'm sure
I shall like it just as well as if it were pink with gold letters on
it."
THE SONG OF THE SPRING
The King was very ill indeed and no one in all the court could find
out what was his ailment or how to cure it. He had been the kindest,
merriest king for miles about, always ready to help a poor subject or
to stop and play with the children as he drove his chariot through the
village. Now he never smiled and he seemed too weary to care what
happened in the kingdom; so everything went at sixes and sevens and no
one knew what to do about it.
"The King needs daintier food," said the Court Cook, so he served
broiled peacock on toast, and pomegranates and cream, and wild honey,
and cheese-cakes as light as feathers, and a sponge cake made with the
eggs of a bantam hen.
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