"Well then, Miss Daisy, a basket of cold meat wouldn't come
amiss, I suppose."

"And some bread, Joanna?"

"The chaise won't hold so much."

"It has got to hold the basket," said Daisy in much glee, "and
the bread can go in. And, Joanna, I'll have it ready at half-
past four o'clock."

There was no air of moping about Daisy, when, at half-past
four she set off from the house in her pony-chaise, laden with
pail and basket and all she had bargained for. A happier child
was seldom seen. Sam, a capable black boy, was behind her on a
pony not too large to shame her own diminutive equipage; and
Loupe, a good-sized Shetland pony, was very able for more than
his little mistress was going to ask of him. Her father looked
on, pleased, to see her departure; and when she had gathered
up her reins, leaned over her and gave her with his kiss a
little gold piece to go with the pail and basket. It crowned
Daisy's satisfaction; with a quiet glad look and word of
thanks to her father, she drove off.

The pony waddled along nicely, but as his legs were none of
the longest, their rate of travelling was not precisely of the
quickest. Daisy was not impatient. The afternoon was splendid,
the dust had been laid by late rains, and Daisy looked at her
pail and basket with great contentment. Before she had gone a
quarter of a mile from home, she met her little friend of the