When Philip came to the door he stopped suddenly, for the idea struck him that it would give Rose great pleasure to carry the guinea-fowl to Susan.  So he ran into the village.

All the children who had given up their Mayday money to Susan were playing on the green.  They were delighted to see the guinea-hen once more.  Philip took his pipe and tabor and they all marched together towards the whitewashed cottage.

As they passed the butcher’s house, his boy came out.  They told him where they were going.

“Let me come with you, let me come with you,” he said.  “But wait one moment, for my father has something to say to you,” and he darted into the house.  The children waited.  In a few moments they heard the bleating of a lamb, and soon they saw it being gently led by the butcher from the paddock.

“It is Daisy!” exclaimed Rose.

“It is Daisy!” they all shouted with joy, “Susan’s lamb!  Susan’s lamb!”

“Well, for my part,” said the good butcher, as soon as he could be heard, “for my part I would not be so cruel as Attorney Case for the whole world.  It’s true the lamb did not know what was before it, but poor Susan did, and to wring her gentle heart was what I call cruel.  But at any rate, here it is, safe and sound now.  I’d have taken it to her sooner, but was off early this morning to the fair, and am but just come back.  Daisy, though, was as well off in my paddock as in the field by the water-side.”

The troop of happy children went on their way with the guinea-fowl and the lamb.  As they passed the shop where Susan had been shown the pretty calicoes, the shopkeeper, who, you remember, was Rose’s father, came out.  When he saw the lamb, and learned whose it was and heard its story, he gave the children some pieces of colored ribbon, with which Rose decorated Susan’s favorite.

The children now once more moved on, led by Philip, who played joyfully upon his pipe and tabor.  Susan was working in her summer-house, with her little pine table before her.  When she heard the sound of the music, she put down her work and listened.  She saw the crowd of children coming nearer and nearer.  They had closed round Daisy, so she did not see her pet, but as they came up to the garden-gate she saw that Rose beckoned to her.  Philip played as loud as he could, that she might not hear, until the proper moment, the bleating of the lamb.  As Susan opened the gate, the children divided, and first she saw, in the midst of her taller friends, little smiling Mary, with the guinea-hen in her arms.

“Come on! come on!” cried Mary, as Susan started with joyful surprise; “you have more to see.”