"I want to speak to you," she began.
"Well, what's the matter, Abby? What makes you so serious this
morning?" inquired Marion.
"Nothing--only I've been thinking about the May piece, and I want to
tell you that I'd rather not be Queen," faltered the little girl,
"You'd rather not be Queen!" repeated Marion, in astonishment. "Why
not? I thought you were delighted to be chosen."
"So I was--yesterday," the little girl hastened to say; for she would
not have Marion think she did not appreciate the compliment.
"Then what has caused you to change your mind so suddenly?" Marion went
on. "What a fickle child you are, to be sure!"
"It is not that," stammered poor Abby, a good deal confused;
"but--but--well, you know the Blessed Virgin is Queen of May, and it
seems as if we ought not even to play at having any other Queen."
Marion stared at her incredulously. "And so missy has a scruple about
it?" she said, smiling.
"No," returned Abby; "but my brother Larry thought so. And if it looks
that way even to a little boy like him, I think I would rather not
pretend to be Queen.
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