question.
Suzanna's mind worked clearly, but it worked by its own laws. So now the
mother waited and toward the end of the meal she was rewarded for her
patience. Suzanna put down her fork and began:

"Mother, this is my first tucked-in day to do as I please in. I know
Monday's supposed to be wash day, but you said it wasn't a big wash and
I did all the sorting Saturday night. I am all fixed up for a princess,
and something inside me tells me I must wander about my palace and
perhaps find paths leading to far-off snow countries."

It was Maizie who looked now questioningly at her mother. Could it be
that Suzanna would be given her own way? In truth the entire table
awaited breathlessly Mrs. Procter's answer. It came at last:

"Very well, Princess, you may have your tucked-in day."

There followed a short silence. At last:

"Mother, I must be honest with you," said Suzanna, "there are to be
_two_ tucked-in days. In my next space I want to be an Only Child."

Again her mother agreed. Rarely could she deny Suzanna her jaunts into
the land of dreams.

So after breakfast, quite free, Suzanna left the house. The little town
lay quiet, except for the rhythmic noises coming from the big Massey
Steel Mills. Suzanna looked in their direction and stood a moment
watching the sparks coming from the big round chimneys. Over across
fields were the tumble-down cottages occupied by the employees of the
Massey Steel Mills. Suzanna did not often go in their direction. The
squalor made her unhappy and set in train so many questions she was
quite unable to answer.

The day was early July with a spicy breeze that promised its delight for
many hours. Suzanna walked out into the road, and turned to gaze at the
little home in which she had been born. She loved it with its many
memories. She fancied it held its head high because it sheltered her
father's great Machine. At length she turned south toward the country.
She breathed deeply as she went, feeling how wonderful it was to be a
princess and to wander about as she pleased.

Throbbing with life and the beauty of it, the marvel of it, she began to
dance. Strange thoughts flowed through her, strange understandings,
that, little child as she was, she could find no words for. Only it
seemed color lay within her, rich color for a thought of love; a wistful
rose shade for a passing desire, a brilliant orange for the uplifting
knowledge that just to be alive was great. She stopped to gat