Each table had a different color, and the flowers in the basket matched the ribbon bow.
Marjorie's basket was filled with pink sweet peas, while at another table Kitty had lavender pansies, and King found himself in front of a basket of yellow daisies.
The feast, as might have been expected at Grandma Maynard's, was delicious, but the Maynard children could not enjoy it very much because of their environment.

They were not together, and each one being with several strangers, felt it necessary to make polite conversation.
King tried to talk on some interesting subject to the little girl who sat next him.
"Have you a flower garden ?" he said.
"Oh, no, indeed; we live in the city, so we can't very well have a flower garden." "No, of course not," agreed King.

"You see, we live in the country, so we have lots of flowers." "It must be dreadful to live in the country," commented the little girl, with a look of scorn.
"It isn't dreadful at all," returned King; "and just now, in springtime, it's lovely.

The flowers are all coming out, and the birds are hopping around, and the grass is getting green.

What makes you say it's dreadful ?" "Oh, I don't like the country," said the child, with a shrug of her little shoulders.