"
"You'd look pretty going, and you a deacon of the church, after the way
the Princess put it," returned Nancy's mother. "I'm sorry enough for
Nancy, but she ought to have a little lesson. You can go over there
to-morrow morning and get the basket back."
There was a beautiful custard pudding for supper, but Nancy did not want
any.
"Sit up and eat your supper," said her mother. "Your father's going down
to the Injuns in the morning, and see what he can do about it."
However, Nancy still did not care for the custard pudding; everything
tasted of tears.
The next morning, before Nancy's father had a chance to go to the
Indians, the Princess herself came to the back door. Whether she came
from honesty or policy nobody could tell; but she came, and she brought
the sweet-grass basket. She rapped on the door, and Nancy opened it. The
Princess extended the basket without a word. Nancy wiped her hands,
which were damp from washing the breakfast dishes, on her apron, then
she took the basket. Then the Princess struck off across the garden.
Nancy carried the basket into the kitchen. She had a shamefaced and
resolute expression. Flora was in there, and her father and mother.
She went straight to Flora, and held out the basket. Flora drew back,
and looked at her.
"Take it," said Nancy. "It's for you."
Flora looked at her aunt.
"Take it, if she wants you to," said Mrs.
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