From Tabitha Wells, aged ten, at Philadelphia, in the year 1776, to her cousin John Bradford, at Boston—a letter.

“My Dear John:

“It does seem more than a month ago that I said good-bye to you, and you took your long journey home again. Your visit was a bright spot in these troubled times. Do you remember the pair of robins that we watched building their nest in grandmother’s old apple tree. They have raised their brood of young ones now and the little birds have flown away. The old birds still live in the apple tree, though, and each day at sunrise and sunset they sing as if all the world were gay instead of fallen into this sad Revolution. And the early apples are as red as the coat of a British soldier and are dropping all over the grass of the garden.

“Grandmother gave me a pewter canister that used to hold tea—she knew it would be a long time before we have any more tea to put in it. I have filled it full of apples, one layer of fruit and then one of leaves to keep them from bruising. It is as sweet smelling as our garden, John, where you played with me so many happy days this spring. It is for you; the apples shall go to you by the next packet.

“But here I am writing you of such everyday matters as robins and apples, and wasting paper which is rising in price, and using up one of my grandfather’s best quill pens and his ink stone. I had other things in mind to tell you, John, when I started this letter—things of far greater importance.

“Strange happenings have come to your cousin Tabitha Wells in Philadelphia since she said goodbye to you, John. I feel as if I, a little girl of only ten summers, and not as learned as I should be, were of a part with these great and stirring times in the Colonies.

“To wit, as the barristers say. And now, my dear John, I will tell my story.

“I mind that we played so much at home when you visited me, John, that I had no time to take you to the little upholstery shop on Arch Street, near grandmother’s house, which is my special delight.

“It is kept by one Mistress Betsy Ross, not much more than a grown-up girl. They say she is little past twenty in years, and she has a great pleasure in letting me visit and watch her at work. Her husband was a brave young patriot of our Colonies and was but a brief space since killed. Mrs. Betsy always helped him in his shop and now that he will be there no longer, and she being most skillful with her needle, she is carrying on the work of the shop herself.

“When I have finished wiping the dinner service for grandmother, I often ask leave to go down for the rest of the afternoon to the shop of Mistress Betsy. I mind that we are both of us lonely; I, the only child in so quiet a house as this in which my father left me when he joined the army; and she a slim, sweet lady, all alone in her shop.

“Such pretty stuffs as she has, John! If you were a girl your eyes would stick out for envy, and your fingers ache for scissors and needle. She gave me a bit of yellow satin brocade, picked out with a pattern of butterflies. I made a court dress of it for my wooden doll—although grandmother says such finery is not for a doll even in these days.

“But here I am letting my quill go wandering again, John. It is not of my doll that I am minded to write you, but of the important thing that happened in the shop of Mistress Betsy Ross this summer time. I was there, John. I saw it with my own eyes.

“Mistress Betsy was fitting new covers to grandmother’s best fiddle-backed chairs, and I had come down to her shop to see if they were done. It chanced that they were, but I lingered a while for Mistress Betsy was busying herself at what she likes best to do. She was stitching a flag.

“You know, of course, John, that each of our American Colonies has its own flag, each of a different design, although they all favor the same colors, red, and white, and blue. Such days as these, when troops are marching to war, there is need of many flags, and so Mistress Betsy is as busy stitching them as she is in making her furniture covers. So quick and deft, she is, John.

“I wish you could but see how neatly she sews together the colors, and stitches on the designs. No scrap of cloth is wasted, and each flag that Mistress Betsy makes is quite perfect in shape and pattern. I mind that the packet had just brought Mistress Betsy some bundles of fresh stuff for her flag-making, red and blue, and she was looking it over as she spoke to me:

“‘Tabitha, child,’ Mistress Betsy said to me, ‘it would save me much time and work if I had one pattern for a flag. It tries my patience sorely to keep in my thoughts and at my fingers’ ends the patterns of thirteen.’

“‘So think I.’ The voice of a man surprised us, and we looked up to see a very grand gentleman standing in the door of the shop and looking at us. ‘I heard your speech just now, Mistress Ross,’ he said, ‘and it is even upon such an errand that I come to you. The Continental Congress is of a mind to adopt one flag that will be the flag of freedom and the emblem of the brave; one banner for the Colonies. The fame of your fine needlework has come to our ears, Mistress Ross, and we are here to consult with you in the matter.’

“The gentleman, very fine indeed in his blue broadcloth and gold lace, stepped into the little shop now, and behind him were other gentlemen in the uniform of the Colonies.

“I confess, John, that I was a bit awed, and I hid myself behind Mistress Betsy’s tall clock, where I could hear but not be seen. You see I was in my linsey-woolsey frock, not dressed for company. Mistress Betsy wore her long working apron over her chintz short gown, but she curtsied with great ease.

“‘You honor me, Mr. Washington,’ Mistress Betsy said. ‘I have been long of a desire to put my needle into one flag, and one only. What might be your wishes and that of the Congress in the pattern of this flag?’

“So this was the great Mr. Washington! My heart went pit-a-pat, John, as loudly it seemed to me as sounded the ticking of the clock. I tried to hold it quiet as I listened to Mr. Washington’s every word.

“‘We have not made any fixed design for an American flag, Mistress Ross,’ Mr. Washington said. ‘We feel that all the thirteen colonies should, in some way, have notice in it, and I have a great desire that there should be stars.’

“He took a quill from Mistress Betsy’s secretary and began making drawings on a piece of paper. Mistress Betsy looked over his shoulder and watched his long fingers, trying to see what manner of a flag he was designing.

“‘See, Mistress Ross,’ Mr. Washington said, ‘I should like stars like this one.’ He held up his drawing.

“Mistress Betsy took the drawing and looked at it, turning it first one way, and then the other. I came out from behind the clock and looked, too, for I was of a curious mind about this new flag. Oh, John, if you could have seen the strange, crooked star that Mr. Washington had drawn! He is a great soldier and statesman, without doubt, but he is not a draughtsman. I saw Mistress Betsy’s eyes twinkle, but she was quite sober and respectful when she spoke.

“‘You have your eyes on your men, Mr. Washington, during your night marches, not on the stars. Your star is drawn with six points, and it should have only five points. May I be so bold as to show you how to make a five-pointed star?’

“Then Mistress Betsy picked up a scrap of white cloth, folded it deftly into five parts, made one snip with her scissors and opened it. There was a perfect star with five points!

“Mr. Washington took it, and as he looked at it his stern face changed, and he smiled. Then he bowed as he turned to go.

“‘Well done, Mistress Ross,’ he said. ‘I have the idea of an American flag in my mind, but you have it in your fingers. Put your wits to the task of designing a flag to submit to the Congress, and I hope that the Colonies will see fit to adopt it. Good afternoon, Mistress of Flags!’ and Mr. Washington and his gentlemen had gone.

“Oh, John, how excited we were then! Mistress Ross took my hands in hers and she danced like a girl with me about the shop. Then she sat down in her big wooden rocking chair and took me in her lap. She put her arms around me and pulled my head close to hers. I thought she was going to cry as she spoke:

“‘Tabitha Wells,’ she said. ‘The chance has come to me to do something for my country. My husband died for the Colonies, but I, who must live, may perhaps make the flag that will wave in remembrance of him and of all the other patriots!’

“And I, knowing how she felt, could only hug her, not speaking because of a great choking in my throat.

“But we soon realized that it was not a time for tears, but for doing. Mistress Betsy jumped up, and thrust her hands deep into her colored stuffs.

“‘Only three colors for the flag of our country, Tabitha,’ she said, ‘red for the blood of her patriots, and blue for her truth, and white for her purity. But now, for the design?’ She laid the pieces of cloth together and tried them this way, and that.

“Oh, how we puzzled our minds, John, over that flag. Or Mistress Betsy did, while I looked on, and clapped my hands in pride for her. I forgot the time. It grew late, and grandfather had to come for me, but I went again the next day to Mistress Betsy’s shop, and for many days to watch her plan the pattern of our one flag.

“You see, my dear John, it was no easy task. Mr. Washington had said that he was of a mind to have the thirteen Colonies represented in it. Mistress Betsy, herself, was always of a mind to make her needlework good to look at because of its simplicity. So she cut, and stitched, and ripped, and then stitched again. It was a weary work and lasted through the burning of many candles, but at last Mistress Betsy finished her flag.

“Oh, John, if you could but see it! It is plain, which the better shows its bright colors of red, and white, and blue. It has seven long red stripes and six long white stripes, making thirteen in all, for the thirteen colonies. As I look at the stripes they mind me of the long way our Colonies are taking to their freedom. Then, in one corner of the flag is a large piece of blue cloth, and sewed to it with Mistress Betsy’s tiny stitches are thirteen stars. The stars are for our Colonies, too. Like stars, they will shine.

“And now comes the amazing part of this letter, which has tried you, I fear, with all its quill scratching. Mr. Washington is so greatly pleased with Mistress Betsy’s endeavor to carry out his wishes that her flag is to be adopted by the Congress. It will be our American flag forever, and ever. I, Tabitha Wells, know the sweet lady who made it. I can scarcely wait for my father to come home to tell him about it. The flag of our Union, John, and made here in Philadelphia and in the shop of my Mistress Betsy. I am going to call her my Star Lady after this.

“Your patience has been tried, dear John, I fear, in reading this long letter. I have had trouble with my quill, which would not travel over the paper as fast as my thoughts come. I hear that you are having stirring times in Boston, and I pray that you are safe, and well. I shall count the days until your letter comes.

“As soon as I can I will have a small flag made for you in the Star Lady’s shop. Perhaps I can send it by the same packet as the apples. So, you will remember Philadelphia well, John, by the fruit of our garden and by the first American flag.

“Your cousin,

“Tabitha Wells.”