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Marigold skipped along hand in hand with Buttercup, and she envisioned herself all dressed for the party. She would wear a silk skirt and a blouse embroidered with golden thread. Her golden hair would be combed till it shone, and pretty ribbons tied in that streamed down to the very end of her hair. There would be a crown of flowers atop her little head, and a little bunch in her hand, and she would look just like a queen. She knew quite well she would find no silk skirts and embroidered blouses, but it was great fun to imagine it. And maybe she would have streaming ribbons and flowers.
When Buttercup opened the chest Marigold promptly knelt and began rummaging through, her eyes dancing and eager. When she found something that was her size, she would gaze at it thoughtfully, turning it over in her hands, then she would discard or take them, as she willed. A pretty little blue skirt with flounces was chosen; a white blouse with lace at the cuffs and neck; and a sash of a lovely shade of gold.
"See, Miss Buttercup," she said, beaming, "this what I've chosen. I'll wear this skirt... my mamma always said I should wear blue, because it's so pretty with my eyes and hair. And then this blouse with the lovely lace. And this golden sash I'll tie around my waist. It matches my hair very well, don't you think?" And suddenly her eyes grew soft. "And, Miss Buttercup, do you have any lilacs in the garden? After you fix up my hair, I'd like to put lilacs in. My mother's name was Lilac, you know, and she always used to wear lilacs in her hair. I want to wear them today, because it's a hand-fasting, and if there had been no hand-fastings ever, there would have been no me."
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