CHAPTER XV.
Laddie, the Princess, and the Pie "O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad." Candace was baking the very first batch of rhubarb pies for the season and the odour was so tempting I couldn't keep away from the kitchen door.

Now Candace was a splendid cook about chicken gizzards--the liver was always mother's--doughnuts and tarts, but I never really did believe she would cut into a fresh rhubarb pie, even for me.

As I reached for the generous big piece I thought of Laddie poor Laddie, plowing away at his Crusader fight, and not a hint of victory.

No one in the family liked rhubarb pie better than he did.

I knew there was no use to ask for a plate.
"Wait--oh wait!" I cried.
I ran to the woodshed, pulled a shining new shingle from a bale stacked there, and held it for Candace.