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A GOLDEN PICNIC
Minstrel robins were whistling in the firs and the frogs were singing in the marshes. All the basins among the hills were brimmed with topaz and emerald light.
“Well, we have had a lovely time after all,” said Diana, as if she had hardly expected to have it when she set out.
“It has been a truly golden day,” said Priscilla.
“I’m really awfully fond of the woods myself,” said Jane.
Anne said nothing. She was looking afar into the western sky and thinking of little Hester Gray.
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