He untied a stout cord from his handle-bars and proceeded to fasten it from his saddle post to the perambulator. Lydia watched him with a glowing face. She was devoted to Kent, although they quarreled a great deal. He was a handsome boy, two years Lydia's senior; not tall for his years, but already broad and sturdy, with crinkly black hair and clear, black-lashed brown eyes. His face was round and ruddy under its summer tan. His lips were full and strong--an aggressive, jolly boy, with a quick temper and a generous heart. He and Lydia had been friends since kindergarten days. "I'm going to stay in the Willows all day," said Lydia. "Don't go too fast, Kent." "Dit-up! Dit-up, horsy!" screamed little Patience. "Toot! Toot! Express for the Willows!" shouted Kent, mounting his wheel, and the procession was off, the perambulator bounding madly after the bicycle, while Patience shouted with delight and Lydia clung desperately to the handle-bars. The path, after a few moments, shifted to the lake shore. The water there lapped quietly on a sandy beach, deep shaded by willows. Kent dismounted. "Discharge your cargo!" he cried. "Don't be so bossy," said Lydia. "This is my party." "All right, then I won't play with you." "Nobody asked you to, smarty. I was going to give you my deviled egg for lunch." "Gosh," said Kent, "did you bring your lunch? Say, I guess I'll go home and get mother to give me some. But let's play pirates, first." "All right! I choose to be chief first," agreed Lydia. "And I'm the cannibal and baby's the stolen princess," said Kent. The three children plunged into the game which is the common property of childhood. For a time, bloody captures, savage orgies, escape, pursuit, looting of great ships and burial of treasure, transformed the quiet shore to a theater of high crime. At last, as the August noon waxed high, and the hostage princess fell fast asleep in her perambulator cave, the cannibal, who had shifted to captured duke, bowed before the pirate. "Sir," he said in a deep voice, "I have bethought myself of still further treasure which if you will allow me to go after in my trusty boat, I will get and bring to you--if you will allow me to say farewell at that time to my wife and babes." "Ha!" returned the pirate. "How do I know you'll come back?" The duke folded his arms. "You have my word of honor which never has, and never will, be broken." "Go, duke--but return ere sundown." The pirate made a magnificent gesture toward the bicycle, "and, say Kent, bring plenty to fill yourself up, for I'm awful hungry and I'll need all we've got."