“If a kiss could be seen I think it would look like a violet,” said Priscilla.

Anne glowed.

“I’m so glad you spoke that thought, Priscilla, instead of just thinking it and keeping it to yourself.  This world would be a much more interesting place . . . although it is very interesting anyhow . . . if people spoke out their real thoughts.”

“It would be too hot to hold some folks,” quoted Jane sagely.

“I suppose it might be, but that would be their own faults for thinking nasty things.  Anyhow, we can tell all our thoughts today because we are going to have nothing but beautiful thoughts.  Everybody can say just what comes into her head.  That is conversation.  Here’s a little path I never saw before.  Let’s explore it.”

The path was a winding one, so narrow that the girls walked in single file and even then the fir boughs brushed their faces.  Under the firs were velvety cushions of moss, and further on, where the trees were smaller and fewer, the ground was rich in a variety of green growing things.

“What a lot of elephant’s ears,” exclaimed Diana.  “I’m going to pick a big bunch, they’re so pretty.”

“How did such graceful feathery things ever come to have such a dreadful name?” asked Priscilla.

“Because the person who first named them either had no imagination at all or else far too much,” said Anne, “Oh, girls, look at that!”

“That” was a shallow woodland pool in the center of a little open glade where the path ended.  Later on in the season it would be dried up and its place filled with a rank growth of ferns; but now it was a glimmering placid sheet, round as a saucer and clear as crystal.  A ring of slender young birches encircled it and little ferns fringed its margin.

“How sweet!” said Jane.

“Let us dance around it like wood-nymphs,” cried Anne, dropping her basket and extending her hands.

But the dance was not a success for the ground was boggy and Jane’s rubbers came off.

“You can’t be a wood-nymph if you have to wear rubbers,” was her decision.

“Well, we must name this place before we leave it,” said Anne, yielding to the indisputable logic of facts.  “Everybody suggest a name and we’ll draw lots.  Diana?”

“Birch Pool,” suggested Diana promptly.

“Crystal Lake,” said Jane.

Anne, standing behind them, implored Priscilla with her eyes not to perpetrate another such name and Priscilla rose to the occasion with “Glimmer-glass.”  Anne’s selection was “The Fairies’ Mirror.”

The names were written on strips of birch bark with a pencil Schoolma’am Jane produced from her pocket, and placed in Anne’s hat.  Then Priscilla shut her eyes and drew one.  “Crystal Lake,” read Jane triumphantly.  Crystal Lake it was, and if Anne thought that chance had played the pool a shabby trick she did not say so.