In the very place we slid across, in summer lay the cowslip bed.

The world is full of beautiful spots, but I doubt if any of them ever were prettier than that.

Father called it swale.

We didn't sink deep, but all summer there was water standing there.

The grass was long and very sweet, there were ferns and a few calamus flowers, and there must have been an acre of cowslips--cowslips with big-veined, heartshaped, green leaves, and large pale gold flowers.