But they didn't eat all of the berries they picked. Oh, no. They put some of the berries into the little white bowl with the blue kittens chasing one another around and around on the outside. And the Chief Gardener and big Prue put most of their berries into the big bowl with the blue flowers and vines on it. And by and by both of the bowls were full--full clear to the top and heaping--so that no more berries, not even the very little ones, would lay on. And then big Prue took the big bowl, and little Prue the little bowl, and they went up the little garden step into the house, carrying the bowls very carefully, so as not to spill any of the red berries that were heaped up so high that no more, not even very little ones, would lay on. And the Chief Gardener and Davy followed along behind, talking of the fine June evening, and saying how long the days were now and how far to the north the sun was setting. Then they looked around at the garden, and wondered if they would have green corn by the middle of July, and when they looked under the bean vines they found that some pods were quite large, and the Chief Gardener said that by Sunday they could have beans, and pease, with lettuce and several other green things--a regular garden dinner. And then little Prue came out and called them to come--right off. And they saw that she was dressed in a fresh white dress, and that her hair was tied with a bright blue ribbon, and her face was as rosy as a strawberry. "We have got the deliciousest shortcake that ever was!" she called, as they came closer, "and I helped, and rolled the dough and picked over some of the berries!" "You didn't put all the berries in," said the Chief Gardener. "Oh, I did--I did, Papa--all but two." [Illustration: BIG, BIG BERRIES THAT LOOKED SO GOOD] "And I will have those," said the Chief Gardener, and he lifted the little girl in his arms and gave her a big, big kiss, on each rosy cheek. "I think June is the best month that ever was!" said Davy a little later, as he finished his second large piece. "It always seems the queen month to me," said big Prue, "perhaps because it is the month of the rose--the queen of the flowers." "Is the rose really the queen of the flowers?" asked little Prue. "I have always heard so." "How did she get to be queen? Did she just happen to be queen, or did the other flowers choose her?" Little Prue's mamma looked thoughtfully out the garden window, where a great climbing rambler was a mass of red blossoms. "Do you think any other flower could be queen over that?" she asked. "Why, no, but--but don't folks have to choose queens, or something?" "They do presidents," said Davy. "I think you'll have to tell us about it," laughed the Chief Gardener. "It's your turn for a story, anyway." So then big Prue took them all out on the wide veranda, where they could watch the sunset, that came very late now, and there she told them II HOW THE ROSE BECAME QUEEN