pie--I know what it is, for I saw Joanna making it. Now we'll have this
and be off."

"You must not, Ransom," Daisy urged anxiously. But Ransom seized the pie
from its place and proceeded to cut into it, seeing that nobody was near
to hinder him.

"Ransom, you ought not to do it," pleaded Daisy. "You ought to wait your
turn. You are worse than Fido."

"Am I?" said Ransom fiercely. "Take that! Mind your own affairs, and
let mine alone. You are not queen here yet, if you think you are."

A tolerably smart box on the ear was the accompaniment to this speech.
Nobody was near. Alexander, after joining his friend in a meringue or
two with a cream cake, not feeling quite comfortable in the connection,
had moved off. So did Ransom now, but he carried his pie with him and
called the other two boys to bear him company in making lunch of it.
Preston was much too gentlemanly a fellow to take part even of a lark
pie in such circumstances; he walked off in disdain, leaving Ransom and
Alexander to do what they liked. And they liked the pie so well that I
am bound to say nothing of it remained very soon excepting the dish.
Even the bones were swallowed by Fido.

Daisy was left alone under the tree with her occupation gone; for Fido
was after the lark bones. Her ear rang a few minutes from the
application of Ransom's hand; but that effect had passed off long before
Daisy's mind was quieted. For gentle as she was, Daisy was a little lady
who had a very deep and particular sense of personal dignity; she felt
wronged as well as hurt. Her father and mother never indulged in that