look good with my hair?" she asked with an exaggerated air of grandeur.

"Go on, now," Millie said, laughing, "and don't spill that apple butter
or you'll get parasol."

With a merry good-bye Amanda set off, the basket upon her arm, one hand
grasping the red stem of the rhubarb parasol while the great green leaf
flopped up and down upon her head in cool ministration.

Down the sunny road she trudged, spasmodically singing bits of gay
songs, then again talking to herself. "This here is a dandy parasol.
Cooler'n a real one and lots nicer'n a bonnet or a hat. Only I wish it
was bigger, so my arms would be covered, for it's hot out to-day."

When she reached the little red brick country schoolhouse, half-way
between her home and the Landis farm, she paused in the shade of a
great oak that grew in the school-yard.

"Guess I'll rest the apple butter a while in this shade," she said to
herself, "and pick a bouquet for my knight's mom." From the grassy
roadside she gathered yellow and gold butter-and-eggs, blue spikes of
false dragon's head, and edged them with a lacy ruffle of wild carrot
flowers.

"There, that's grand!" she said as she held the bouquet at arm's length
and surveyed it carefully. "I'll hold it out, just so, and I'll say to
Mrs. Landis, 'Mother of my knight, I salute you!' I know she'll be
surprised. Mebbe I might tell her just how brave her Martin is and how
I made him a knight. She'll be glad. It must be a satisfaction to have
a boy a knight." She smiled in happy anticipation of the wonderful