192 A WHITE-PAPER GARDEN 



from the petals of the iris, the fall making the 

 hull, you know, and the standards, with a thorn 

 or two, acting as sails. The hulls of milkweed 

 pods, being much stronger, may be driven about 

 in the wilder waste of waters found in the 

 watering troughs by the gate. The finest 

 balls in the world are those of which the holly- 

 bush ladies dance minuets, and fandangoes, to 

 the delight of the chaperons, who sit about in 

 the full dress of a larkspur bonnet, or a hood 

 made from a four-o'clock. Four-o'clocks them- 

 selves make most beautiful ladies, by pulling 

 the skirts of half-a-dozen over the little green 

 seed ball which makes such a satisfactory head 

 for the chosen one. Balsam parties are not 

 to be despised. The guests do not long retain 

 the cool freshness of their petticoats, it is true, 

 but long enough for a dance or two and the 

 serving of the banquet laid on acorn plates, 

 and poured from rose-hip tea-things. Wafers 

 made from the silken inner tissues of honesty 

 and mallow cheese were their favourite dainties 

 in the long ago garden days that were mine, and, 

 if the occasion were a patriotic one, torpedoes 

 were ready to hand in a crumpled rose petal, 

 and cannon in the spent tubes of the morning 



