in surprise.

"It is from Rose Freeman," announced Anne. "And oh, Amanda, she asks me
to come to Brewster next week, and go with her in her father's chaise to
Boston!" And Anne turned, smiling happily, toward Amanda. She had
expected Amanda to exclaim with delight over such a wonderful piece of
news, but instead of delight Amanda's face expressed an angry surprise.
She had stopped short, and stood looking at Anne.

"Rose Freeman!" she exclaimed. "Boston in a chaise! I wonder I play with
you at all, Anne Nelson. Why don't you stay in Boston? I shouldn't care
if you did!" and throwing the basket of luncheon on the ground Amanda
turned and ran back toward home.

Anne looked after her in amazement. "That's the way she used to act
before we were friends," she said aloud; "and all that good food thrown
down in the sand," for the basket was overturned, and two round ginger
cakes, two pieces of corn bread, and two three-cornered tarts had rolled
out. Anne knelt down and picked them up carefully, shaking off the sand,
and returned them to the basket.

"Her mother cannot afford to have such good things wasted," said Anne;
for even the children in Province Town in the days of the Revolution
knew how difficult it was to secure supplies. The end of Cape Cod, with
its sandy dunes, scant pasturage or tillage, made the people depend on
their boats, not only to bring in fish, but all other household
necessities. The harbor was unguarded, and its occupation as a
rendezvous by English men-of-war had made it very hard for the people to
get provisions. So it was no wonder that Anne looked at the ginger cakes
and tarts as special delicacies, too precious to lie in the sand.

"I'll go to the outer beach by myself," decided Anne, "but I will not
eat my share of the luncheon. I do not see why Amanda should be angry,"
and the little girl walked on, choosing her way carefully among the
scrubby pine trees or patches of beach-plum bushes.

Amanda ran swiftly, and in a moment or two was almost back in the
Stoddards' dooryard!

"I mustn't go home," she said to herself; "they would question me, and I
would have to tell them all the wonderful news about Anne. And, oh," she
exclaimed aloud, "if I did not throw down the fine treat my mother put
in the basket. I'll go back for it; Anne Nelson has everything, but she
shall not have my tarts."

Amanda made her way back very carefully, hoping to get the basket and
escape without Anne seeing her. Bu