The girls had exchanged their wreaths of flowers as they sat down to luncheon, all excepting Ruth and Annette, who wore the ones they had made themselves, and they now made a very attractive picture as they all formed a ring around the May-pole, singing an old song that their mothers had sung when they too were little girls; a May-pole song that had been sung in England for hundreds of years.

"Now for choosing the May Queen!" said Mary Pierce, and a little chorus of "Betty Hastings! Betty Hastings!" was the response, and Betty curtsied very low, and thanked her guests. For "Maids of Honor" she chose Ruth and Winifred, whose duties were to walk one on each side of the May Queen on her way to her throne, and then kneel beside her until she bade them rise.

While the girls had been at luncheon and dancing around the May-pole Black Jason and his friend had been busily at work behind some thick growing trees near the river.

"All ready, Missie!" he announced, as, hat in hand, and bowing low, he came smilingly toward the "Queen of the May."

A little procession formed to follow Jason, who led the way through a woodland path to a clearing that opened toward the river. In this clearing stood a big rustic chair, Betty's "throne."

Ruth and Winifred handed the Queen to her seat with great ceremony, and then one after another the girls approached the throne, curtsying low and laying their garlands at Betty's feet. Now they joined hands in a little circle and danced around the throne, singing:

The Queen of the May asks any favor she pleases from the throne, but as soon as she leaves the throne her power ceases; so now the group of laughing girls stood waiting to hear what the Queen would ask:

demanded Betty smilingly, and away raced her loyal subjects to fulfil the royal demand.

It was Annette who brought the wreath of violets; Mary Pierce came with a curving branch that Jason had cut from a maple tree and trimmed into a staff, while Caroline Fraser brought a cup of cool water from the spring under the willow tree.

"We must soon be thinking of home," Mrs. Hastings reminded them, as the girls, now flushed and a little tired, seated themselves about the throne, from which Betty had descended.

"You have not sung your May-day song, Mother!" Betty reminded her, and the girls now gathered about Mrs. Hastings, repeating Betty's request.

"But it isn't really 'my' song; it is an old English May song," Mrs. Hastings said.

As she finished singing Mrs. Hastings curtsied to the happy group, and said:

"I wish you a happy May."

When Black Jason drove the brown horses into the field, and the girls took their seats in the wagon, they all declared it was the best May-day party they had ever known, and they all thought Betty Hastings was the most fortunate of girls that her birthday came on the first day of May.

"How would you and Winifred like to sit with Jason on the front seat, Ruth?" asked Mrs. Hastings, and the two little friends smiled at each other, and replied that they would like it very much, and so were lifted to the high seat beside the good-natured Jason.

"I almost spoiled everything," Ruth whispered to Winifred, "but Betty made it come out all right. I like Betty."

"So do I," responded Winifred, and they smiled at each other again, both quite sure that they would never again come so near to a quarrel as they had that May-day.

As they drove past a square stone house whose gardens sloped down to the river, Black Jason pointed toward it with his whip and said: "Dat de house where Capt'n Delancy live, an' he an' de oder fine English soldiers are gettin' up a great party, a kind of show like."

The girls looked well at the house from which Betty had so skilfully made her escape on the night following Gilbert's play.

"Are they going to have the party in that house, Jason?" asked Ruth.

"Landy! No, Missie. It's to be out to Master Wharton's fine place in Southwark. Folks do say as General Sir Willum Howe be gwine to leave dis place. They certain do say so," and Jason chuckled with satisfaction at the thought.

"Then will General Washington and Lafayette come here, Jason?" questioned Ruth eagerly.

"I dunno, Missie. But I reckon de English gwine to have a mighty fine party. Dere gwine to have bands o' music in boats on de river. Yas'm," and Jason chuckled at the thought of all the great preparations that had already begun for the most splendid pageant that America had seen, and about which the people of Philadelphia were wondering, for the English officers were making elaborate plans.

"I wish I could drive two horses," said Ruth, looking a little longingly at the reins and whip that Jason so skilfully held in one hand.

"Landy, Missie! Yo' jes' take hold de reins like dis," responded Jason, at the same moment clasping Ruth's hands over the leather reins. "Now hole 'em stiddy."

Ruth obeyed Jason's instructions to "look straight ahead, an' hole 'em up stiddy," and it was the happiest part of all that happy May-day to be driving Jason's brown horses, with the other girls singing and laughing on the seats behind her. But as they turned from the river road into the town Jason again took the reins. The girls were now carried each to her own home, so Winifred and Ruth were set down at the Merrills' door.

"We have had a beautiful time, Betty. We shall always remember your birthday," declared Ruth, and Winnie repeated the words.

Betty smiled and waved her hand; she realized that her two little friends were thanking her for more than their happy May-day.

Hero welcomed Ruth home, and seemed to be trying to tell her something. He ran around her, barking and whining.

"What is it, Hero? What is the matter? Where is my mother?" she asked, as she pushed open the door of the sitting-room and found it vacant.

"Mother!" she called, running into the dining-room, and then heard her mother's voice calling from the kitchen:

"Come out here, Ruthie!"

Ruth stopped in the doorway with an exclamation of surprise.

"Oh, Mother! What is it?" she asked, for Mrs. Pennell was sitting in a low chair near the window, with one foot resting on a stool.

"I have sprained my ankle, Ruthie. I slipped coming in from the porch about an hour ago, and could just manage to crawl to this chair," replied Mrs. Pennell; "and now you will have to be 'mother' for a time. Tie my apron over your dress, and start up the fire, and fill the big kettle with water."

Ruth obeyed quickly, and in a few moments had carried out her mother's directions, bringing a small wooden tub in which to turn the water when it should be heated. She could think of nothing but that her mother must be in pain, as she drew off Mrs. Pennell's slipper and stocking, filled the tub, and now gently bathed the swollen ankle.

"Remember, Ruthie, dear, when any one has the ill-fortune to sprain wrist or ankle, that hot water is the best aid," Mrs. Pennell said, as she directed the way in which Ruth should bandage the ankle.

"I am afraid I am going to make a good deal of work for my little girl. We must try and send for your Aunt Clara to come as soon as possible," she added.

But Ruth did not mind the work; as she went from pantry to fireplace, preparing toast and a dish of hot gruel for her mother her thoughts flew away to Aunt Deborah at Barren Hill, to the lustre cup out of which Lafayette had drunk, and she realized that she could not go away from home now that her mother was lame.

After supper the ankle was bathed again, and now Mrs. Pennell thought it best that Ruth should run in and tell Mrs. Merrill of the accident, and ask her assistance. For she found herself unable to walk.

Mrs. Merrill came at once, and with her aid Mrs. Pennell was able to reach the big sofa in the sitting-room where she was made comfortable for the night.

"I will send Gilbert to Germantown early in the morning to fetch your sister," said Mrs. Merrill, as she bade her neighbor good-night.

"It is fortunate that Ruth had not started for her visit to Barren Hill," she added.

"It is, indeed. I could hardly spare her now," Mrs. Pennell responded.

Ruth listened with a feeling that there would never be any more happy days. Her mother was lame; she could not go to Barren Hill, and all her plans for visiting her father at Valley Forge, and perhaps seeing the brave young Lafayette, must be given up.

As she went slowly up-stairs to bed, she had almost forgotten the happy birthday picnic near the river. But she recalled what Black Jason had said of the rumor that General Howe was soon to leave Philadelphia. Just now, however, that seemed to be of little importance to Ruth. Her last waking thought was that she must be sure to get up early, very early, the next morning and have hot water ready to bathe the hurt ankle.