"It will be wearing a rainbow skirt, like all the girls in the village,"
she thought; and surprised her grandmother by smiling in the midst of the
sermon, at the thought of how very tall this Maypole maiden would be.

The May-pole is always the tallest, slenderest tree that can be found,
and the one which Gerda and Karen had helped to decorate was at least
sixty feet from base to tip. It had been brought from the forest by the
young men of the village, and trimmed of its bark and branches until it
looked like the mast of a vessel. Hoops and crosspieces reaching out in
every direction were fastened to the pole, and it was then decorated with
flowers, streamers, garlands and tiny flags.

Now it was leaning against the platform in the village green, not far
from the church, where it was to be raised after the service.

When Gerda and Karen reached the green they found a group of young people
gathered about the pole, tying strings of gilded hearts, festoons of
colored papers, and fluttering banners to its yard-arms.

"Now it is ready to be raised!" shouted Nils Jorn at last, and everybody
fell away to make room for the men who were to draw it into its place
with ropes and tackle.

"Suppose it should break!" gasped Karen, and held her breath while it
rose slowly in the air. As it settled into the deep hole prepared for it,
Nils Jorn waved his cap and shouted. Then some one else shouted, and soon
everybody was shouting and dancing, and the festival of the green leaf
had begun.