However, in spite of his hostile tone, Burbidge and "his boys" went out quite early and brought back an abundance of fiery marsh marigolds from the marshes, great sprays of budding beech, and a few branches of opening hawthorn; besides which they gathered bunches of primroses, the last of the season that were still in flower in damp woodlands and against northern banks, and also purple heads of meadow orchises. "She'll be fine," Burbidge told Nan, "but it be a sad waste of time pulling wild things that come up all by themselves, when we might have been puttin' taters in or wheelin' on manure." At this old Nan had waxed wroth and had exclaimed, "There's none too old to idle sometimes, Burbidge." "Ay," had replied our old gardener in a surly tone, "but let me idle in my own way." However, for all his apparent hostility, I had an idea at the back of my head, that Burbidge would be concerned if the little _fête_ did not go off well; and I believed, in spite of his angry tones, that he and his boys would deck the May-stang and order all rightly for me. I was not deceived, for as I looked out of the drawing-room windows, I saw a little later the gardeners all at work, putting up the May-pole. In a little while it was finely decked with gay flowers, and Célestine and Nana, for once united in a common cause, brought out many yards of coloured ribbon, which they tied in knots of pink, red, white, blue, and yellow amongst the flowers. These floated like a hundred little flags in the breeze, and seemed to fill the air with gaiety. [Sidenote: DECKED FOR THE FÊTE] When this operation was at last completed, the dressing of Bess began in earnest, and my little maid for once sat quite still, and allowed mademoiselle to brush and fluff her hair till it stood out like the mane of a Shetland pony. This done, Nana put her on a little white bodice and paniers, and sewed on bunches of primroses and white violets, and then crowned her with a crown of golden marsh marigolds that the deft fingers of Célestine had twisted together. "Thee'll be crowned, dear," said the old nurse softly, "with the lucky flower." Then all the maids from upstairs and downstairs crowded to the nursery, and Bess received me graciously, looking like a little fairy. In her hand she held her sceptre as May Queen, round which was wound a sprig of ivy, and one little bunch of violets.