“Neither did I—let’s take a sandwich and start.” Mary Frances led the way. “I’ve often walked through this path,” she said, “and I’ve always found some flowers.” “Oh, dear, what was that?” cried Eleanor suddenly. “Nothing at all,” answered Mary Frances, “or maybe a bird flying about among the leaves.” “It isn’t a bird!” declared Eleanor. “It’s not a bird!” pointing down among the whirling leaves. “Hush! Do look carefully, Mary Frances, and listen!” They stood still. “Wild carrot, toad flax, Buttercup and daisy, Do you love them well as I? If not, you’ll be crazy.” Although the voice was very thin and piping, they heard every word distinctly. “That’s not a bird,” whispered Mary Frances. “Crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy,” sang the voice. Still the girls didn’t see anything among the leaves where the voice seemed to come from. “Tinkle Bell, In a dell, Dearly loved A daisy. Do you love one Well as she? If not, you are——” “What?” asked the little piping voice. All the leaves stopped whirling. “What?” again asked the little voice. “Crazy,” replied Mary Frances, laughing softly. “But we’re not crazy. We dearly love daisies, and wild carrot, and buttercup and—well, yes, we love toad flax, too.” “Oh, I’m so glad, because we can be friends.” At that the leaves began to whirl and dance furiously, and out of the midst of them leaped a little fellow not anything like as large as Mary Marie, Mary Frances’ doll. He was dressed in forest brown from the tip of his pointed cap to the toe of his pointed boot. His coat and tiny knickerbocker breeches were made of green leaves. Even his hair and beard were yellowish-green as though made of very fine grass. For buckles on his shoes he wore tiny dew drops which glistened like diamonds. The buttons on his coat were of the same. At the end of his peaked cap dangled a tiny wild fringed gentian. “Flower lovers are always friends,” said he, bowing. “Young ladies, it gives me much pleasure to introduce myself. I am Jack-in-the-Pulpit!” Mary Frances wanted to ask him how he happened to be out of the pulpit, but she suddenly thought he might not like the question, so she said: “Why, how do you do, Mr. Jack? We are pleased to know you;” and she and Eleanor both smiled. The little fellow was delighted. “You really are glad—that I can see. There are lots of human people who come into the woods who never listen or look when we call.” “Why,” asked Eleanor looking round, “are there more of you?” “Oh, my, yes,” nodded the little fellow. “Lots and lots more, only the others are very busy getting flowers ready for next Autumn and Spring—that is, all but one. Her name is Bouncing Bet.” At that, the leaves began to bounce and to whirl again, and out of their midst sprang a tiny little lady. She was so beautiful that both the girls exclaimed, “Oh, isn’t she lovely!”