Those two girls were of a domestic type that assorted ill with the wildfire in Nature 's veins . But when the Story Girl wreathed her nut brown tresses with crimson leaves it seemed , as Peter said , that they grew on her -- as if the gold and flame of her spirit had broken out in a coronal , as much a part of her as the pale halo seems a part of the Madonna it encircles . What tales she told us on those far-away autumn days , peopling the russet arcades with folk of an elder world . Many a princess rode by us on her palfrey , many a swaggering gallant ruffled it bravely in velvet and plume adown Uncle Stephen 's Walk , many a stately lady , silken clad , walked in that opulent orchard ! When we had filled our baskets they had to be carried to the granary loft , and the contents stored in bins or spread on the floor to ripen further . We ate a good many , of course , feeling that the labourer was worthy of his hire . The apples from our own birthday trees were stored in separate barrels inscribed with our names . We might dispose of them as we willed . Felicity sold hers to Uncle Alec 's hired man -- and was badly cheated to boot , for he levanted shortly afterwards , taking the apples with him , having paid her only half her rightful due . Felicity has not gotten over that to this day . Cecily , dear heart , sent most of hers to the hospital in town , and no doubt gathered in therefrom dividends of gratitude and satisfaction of soul , such as can never be purchased by any mere process of bargain and sale . The rest of us ate our apples , or carried them to school where we bartered them for such treasures as our schoolmates possessed and we coveted . There was a dusky , little , pear-shaped apple -- from one of Uncle Stephen 's trees -- which was our favourite ; and next to it a delicious , juicy yellow apple from Aunt Louisa 's tree . We were also fond of the big sweet apples ; we used to throw them up in the air and let them fall on the ground until they were bruised and battered to the bursting point . Then we sucked on the juice ; sweeter was it than the nectar drunk by blissful gods on the Thessalian hill . Sometimes we worked until the cold yellow sunsets faded out over the darkening distances , and the hunter 's moon looked down on us through the sparkling air . The constellations of autumn scintillated above us . Peter and the Story Girl knew all about them , and imparted their knowledge to us generously . I recall Peter standing on the Pulpit Stone , one night ere moonrise , and pointing them out to us , occasionally having a difference of opinion with the Story Girl over the name of some particular star . Job 's Coffin and the Northern Cross were to the west of us ; south of us flamed Fomalhaut .
The Great Square XXXXX Pegasus was over our heads .
about by from in of over than through to with