Anne Shirley, you come right in here this minute, do you hear me!" A series of staccato taps on the west window brought Anne flying in from the yard, eyes shining, cheeks faintly flushed with pink, unbraided hair streaming behind her in a torrent of brightness.
"Oh, Marilla," she exclaimed breathlessly, "there's going to be a Sunday-school picnic next week--in Mr.Harmon Andrews's field, right near the lake of Shining Waters.

And Mrs.Superintendent Bell and Mrs.
Rachel Lynde are going to make ice cream--think of it, Marilla--ICE CREAM! And, oh, Marilla, can I go to it ?" "Just look at the clock, if you please, Anne.

What time did I tell you to come in ?" "Two o'clock--but isn't it splendid about the picnic, Marilla?
Please can I go?
Oh, I've never been to a picnic--I've dreamed of picnics, but I've never--" "Yes, I told you to come at two o'clock.

And it's a quarter to three.
I'd like to know why you didn't obey me, Anne." "Why, I meant to, Marilla, as much as could be.

But you have no idea how fascinating Idlewild is.