The leaves were still thick on the apple trees , though they were russet hued , and the after-growth of grass was richly green , unharmed as yet by the nipping frosts of previous nights . The wind made a sweet , drowsy murmur in the boughs , as of bees among apple blossoms . `` It 's just like spring , is n't it ? '' asked Felicity . The Story Girl shook her head . `` No , not quite . It looks like spring , but it is n't spring . It 's as if everything was resting -- getting ready to sleep . In spring they 're getting ready to grow . Ca n't you FEEL the difference ? '' `` I think it 's just like spring , '' insisted Felicity . In the sun-sweet place before the Pulpit Stone we boys had put up a board table . Aunt Janet allowed us to cover it with an old tablecloth , the worn places in which the girls artfully concealed with frost-whitened ferns . We had the kitchen dishes , and the table was gaily decorated with Cecily 's three scarlet geraniums and maple leaves in the cherry vase . As for the viands , they were fit for the gods on high Olympus . Felicity had spent the whole previous day and the forenoon of the picnic day in concocting them . Her crowning achievement was a rich little plum cake , on the white frosting of which the words `` Welcome Back '' were lettered in pink candies . This was put before Peter 's place , and almost overcame him . `` To think that you 'd go to so much trouble for me ! '' he said , with a glance of adoring gratitude at Felicity .
Felicity got all the gratitude , although the Story Girl had originated the idea and seeded the raisins and beaten the eggs , while Cecily had trudged all the way XXXXX Mrs. Jameson 's little shop below the church to buy the pink candies .
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