Cathy of the green prairie

Picnic

Cathy had been up for some time, still dressed in her brand new ruffly bed dress. Her doll sat neatly atop her tidy bed, all adding to the beautiful painting she had imagined for so many nights. It was a dream come true, and it was real. Singing faintly she danced happily around her room. She opened her closet, her delicate fingertips running over the soft fabrics as she imagined all the events she would wear them at. Still singing she perused the colors and silks.

A gentle knock on her door snapped her out of her beautiful images. It was her Mama. The girl smiled fondly as she saw her mother emerge, still wearing her night robe.

"How nice, you're already up." Her mother greeted. "And you've made your bed, now, ain't that a great start of the morning." She came closer and placed a kiss atop her cheek. "Are you nervous to sing at the picnic?" Her mother inquired. Cathy shook her head.

"I've sung many times in front of people." She explained. "Mostly in church, but I just think that the Lord's opinion would weigh more on me than that of our neighbors." Cathy pondered. Mary reassured her and looked at her closet.

"Have you decided what you want to wear?" She asked her daughter, resting her chin affectionately on her shoulder.

"There are so many possibilities," Cathy sighed. "A myriad combinations." She exclaimed softly. "I've never had to worry about my clothes." She shook her head as if shaking off the thought. Her hair, which had been tightened around fabric clothes to achieve ringlets, swayed from side to side. "White would do nicely, don't you think?" She told her mother. Mary kissed her cheek and simply reminded her that it was her day, and she got to choose. She took the dress from its hanger and laid it nicely on her bed. Her mother and she entertained themselves by unlacing each curl from Cathy's head and getting all dressed and ready.

Downstairs, the never-ending garden had been decorated with tents and parasols, chairs and tables that would suffice to sit the whole neighborhood. On the tables, a variety of sweets and drinks had been displayed just in time for tea, as this was, a charity picnic where all the sales of jam and pies would be donated to the orphanage asylum in Nova Scotia. At around 3 in the afternoon, guests began arriving at the entrance of the estate. Carriages pulled by horses marching elegantly drowned the sights. At the door stood Mary and Max, each with a hand on their daughter's shoulder, who stood straight in between them, her chin held up proudly.

The first to arrive was Mr. And Mrs. Barry. Mrs. Barry was a tall elegant woman, her face was wrinkle-free, it may seem, because she always held it with an unsatisfied expression. Cathy smiled broadly nonetheless. They said their greetings and their eyes fell to the girl in between the couple. She extended her hand firmly.

"How do you do Miss." Cathy greeted as she had been brought up. This seems to delight Mrs. Barry who took her hand with a faint smile.

"Why, very good, thank you." She spoke to her parents now, "She seems perfectly well-mannered." She exclaimed.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Barry." She greeted the broad man. Mr. Barry tipped his hat and shook her tiny hand softly.

"Isn't she a delight!" Mrs. Barry kept on. "Oh, and what beautiful hair and fair skin." She praised. "How lucky you are." She talked with Mary. Mr. Barry and Max talked on their own about Cathy's welcome. "Well, Catherine." Mrs. Barry commenced.

"Oh, please," Cathy intervened as politely as she could. "Do call me Cathy Mrs. Barry." She insisted. Mrs. Barry nodded, smiling.

"As you wish, Cathy." Mrs. Barry went on. "Meet my daughters, Diana and Minnie May." Both girls stepped closer. Diana must've been around Cathy's age, eleven or so. Minnie May, on the other hand, looked about four, with precious auburn locks. Diana, Cathy let herself dream, had similar black hair to hers, only a little more Burnette.