"It is the way we Japanese always feel when the cherry trees hang out their pink garlands," said Umé's father. Tara was bouncing a ball in the garden and heard this talk about the cherry blossoms. "Wait until my festival," he said, "and then you will see what it is really like to feel gladness." "Your festival," said Umé, "and pray what may your honorable festival be?" "The fish-tree festival is the one I like," answered Tara, and he gave his ball a great toss into the air. Umé looked puzzled for a moment, then she cried, "Oh, he means the Flag Festival!" "Come, children," interrupted their mother, "find the lunch boxes and help to put all in peaceful readiness for our journey to the park." Tara picked up Baby Yuki and gave her a toss into the air. In doing so he discovered that she had lost her name-label. It is a common thing for a Japanese child to wear a wooden label tied around his neck, on which his name and address are printed. Then if he is lost he can be returned to his home. Tara made a new label and tied it so firmly around the baby's neck that her tiny fingers could not possibly loosen the strings. "Now, O Yuki San," he said, "you are all ready to go to the park, where you can get lost a dozen times if you wish, honorable Sister," and he gave her another toss for good luck. In the meantime Umé found that her clog string was broken. "I may as well get a new string for each clog," she said. "When one breaks, I find that the other soon breaks also, for loneliness." But there were no extra strings hanging in the clog-closet where some were usually to be found, and Umé had a great hunt for them. Yuki San, and not Saké, was the thief this time. She had put them carefully away in one of the drawers of the writing cabinet the day before, when she was playing that her shoe was a doll-baby and must be tied to her back with its strings. By the time they were all dressed in their finest clothes, three jinrikishas were waiting at the gate, and Tara rode off proudly with his father, while Baby San sat beside her mother, and Umé rode with her grandmother. The streets were crowded with people dressed in gay kimonos and carrying paper parasols or fans. Some were riding, some were walking, and all were happily chatting and laughing. "Is everyone in the whole world going to Ueno Park?" Umé asked her grandmother, and immediately forgot her question in listening to the sounds of gongs and tinkling bells that filled the air. The joyous sound of bells is always a part of the Cherry-blossom Festival in Tokio, and makes the city a very merry place. The long avenue leading up to the entrance of the park, which is on the brow of a high hill, was arched overhead with the blossoming branches of the cherry trees. "The pink mist almost hides the blue sky," said Umé, "but the sunshine comes dancing through. See how gently it touches the pink petals with its rosy light!"