A Good Imagination Gone Wrong

Spring had come once more to Green Gables--the beautiful
capricious, reluctant Canadian spring, lingering along through
April and May in a succession of sweet, fresh, chilly days, with
pink sunsets and miracles of resurrection and growth. The maples
in Lover's Lane were red budded and little curly ferns pushed up
around the Dryad's Bubble. Away up in the barrens, behind Mr.
Silas Sloane's place, the Mayflowers blossomed out, pink and
white stars of sweetness under their brown leaves. All the
school girls and boys had one golden afternoon gathering them,
coming home in the clear, echoing twilight with arms and baskets
full of flowery spoil.

"I'm so sorry for people who live in lands where there are no
Mayflowers," said Anne. "Diana says perhaps they have something
better, but there couldn't be anything better than Mayflowers,
could there, Marilla? And Diana says if they don't know what
they are like they don't miss them. But I think that is the
saddest thing of all. I think it would be TRAGIC, Marilla, not
to know what Mayflowers are like and NOT to miss them. Do you
know what I think Mayflowers are, Marilla? I think they must be
the souls of the flowers that died last summer and this is their
heaven. But we had a splendid time today, Marilla. We had our
lunch down in a big mossy hollow by an old well--such a ROMANTIC
spot. Charlie Sloane dared Arty Gillis to jump over it, and Arty
did because he wouldn't take a dare. Nobody would in school. It
is very FASHIONABLE to dare. Mr. Phillips gave all the
Mayflowers he found to Prissy Andrews and I heard him to say
`sweets to the sweet.' He got that out of a book, I know; but it
shows he has some imagination. I was offered some Mayflowers
too, but I rejected them with scorn. I can't tell you the
person's name because I have vowed never to let it cross my lips.
We made wreaths of the Mayflowers and put them on our hats; and
when the time came to go home we marched in procession down the
road, two by two, with our bouquets and wreaths, singing `My Home
on the Hill.' Oh, it was so thrilling, Marilla. All Mr. Silas
Sloane's folks rushed out to see us and everybody we met on the
road stopped and stared after us. We made a real sensation."

"Not much wonder! Such silly doings!" was Marilla's response.

After the Mayflowers came the violets, and Violet Vale was empurpled
with them. Anne walked through it on her way to school with reverent
steps and worshiping eyes, as if she trod on holy ground.