April turned into May, but hardly anyone noticed the change of month. Preparations for the wedding continued to dominate our time. Charlotte Plumb monopolized Mama's sitting room. She made it clear she did not wish anyone to disturb them. Finally, the invitations went into the mail, and the RSVPs began to arrive. I never realized we knew that many people.

The chartreuse bridesmaid gown hung in my wardrobe. I tried to avoid looking at it. However, the bright color attracted my attention every time I glanced inside. The sight of it made me want to croak. Caustically, I vowed to destroy the ugly dress as soon as the ceremony ended.

"My bridesmaids will wear pale yellow and carry clusters of white roses," I dreamed aloud. Grayson and I sprawled beneath an elm overlooking the meadow pond. Our horses nibbled at the grass nearby. "I'm going to walk down the aisle holding a cascade of yellow daffodils."

"Lovely," Gray murmured, selecting a finger sandwich from the picnic basket between us. "You will make a beautiful bride, Prissy."

"More beautiful than Miss Plumb," I remarked smugly. "Her dress is too tight. Her breasts spill out over the neckline. I don't know how she manages to keep them in place."

Grayson grimaced and threw his sandwich into the overgrowth. He cringed at the mention of women's body parts. They did not seem to entice him.

"Lottie wants us to carry purple gladiolas as our bouquets," I continued, making retching noises. "Imagine chartreuse and purple. She has no color sense."

"I wish you wouldn't make those noises while we're eating, Priss," Grayson complained, glancing in my direction. He returned the raspberry tarts to the picnic basket. "Why don't we forget Miss Plumb and wade in the pond? It's quite warm for May, don't you think?"

"I thought it was my temperature rising over the wedding," I remarked, pulling off my shoes. "I would like to wade, but Miss Young thinks it's still too cold for swimming. She said not to go into the pond."

Daintily lifting my calico skirt, I rose and edged into the meadow pond. The calm waters refreshed me immediately. Grayson approached more cautiously than me. Dipping his toe in, he withdrew it sharply. He wrapped his arms around his slim torso and shivered.

"I didn't realize it was still this cold," he criticized sharply. "Brr."

"It's not that bad, Gray," I called back, wading further into the pond. I lifted my skirt higher and felt the water rise around my knees.

As I drifted further from shore, I recalled past picnics beside the meadow pond. Joel usually accompanied us with his fly fishing gear and chastised Gray and me for splashing and chasing the fish away. We would glance at him furtively and continue with our pleasure despite him.

Finally acclimating to the cool water, Grayson paddled along the pond's bank. I continued moving forward until the water reached my waist. My lilac-sprigged skirt floated on the surface around me. When my brother drew close enough, I sent a wall of water over his head.

"I'll get you for that, Prissy," Gray hollered, plunging toward me. Grabbing me by the waist, he pushed me below the surface. I struggled against him, finally pushing myself back into the fresh air.

"Oh, my hat," I exclaimed, watching the floral confection bobbing on the rippling water. Hastily I rushed for it, but it moved further away. Grayson joined in the chase. Nevertheless, each time we reached it, it drifted an additional distance. Joyfully, our laughter floated across the vast meadow.

"Coo, Joel, look at the wildlife at play," Miss Plumb's Cockney-accented voice called stridently over our heads. "You never know what you might see while riding along country lanes."

Grayson and I froze in place. Our eyes turned toward the pond's edge, where Joel and his paramour sat astride their horse. He glared down upon us disdainfully.

"I cannot imagine what Miss Young will say when she sees the both of you," our older brother stated coolly. "I'm positive she has told you to stay out of the pond."

"I don't care what Miss Young has to say," I responded defiantly. "I cannot see where it is your business, either, Joel."

"Is she always this impertinent to you, lover?" Charlotte exclaimed, edging her horse closer to Joel. "She is prissy, isn't she? Her name suits her."

Swiftly, Miss Plumb turned her horse away. Our elder brother followed her quickly. Grayson and I continued to stare as they retreated. The afternoon's joy dissipated with the interruption. I waded toward the shore, my hat forgotten. Gray stumbled after me and fell onto the plaid picnic blanket. I squatted and began placing our leftover lunch in the wicker basket.

We mounted our horses and rode home sedately. Papa sat on the veranda, making it impossible for us to avoid him. We bowed our heads and strode past him, hoping he would overlook our disarranged garments.

"I see the drowned fish have returned," our father chuckled. "I assume you both fell in simultaneously again."

"I suppose we did, Papa," I stated, bending to kiss his cheek. "We always do, don't we?"

"I expect you do, child," he answered merrily. "It happens every year at just about this time."

"We have to get in without Miss Young noticing us," I ventured hopefully.

"Hmmm. That does present a problem." Papa tugged on his goatee. "Perhaps..." Rising, he summoned Yates. The butler arrived promptly. "Please ask Miss Young and Mr. Blanchard to join me in my office. I want a word with them."

"At once, sir." Yates bowed at the waist and departed. Within moments, he returned to announce that the pair awaited him as directed.

As soon as Papa stepped into his office through the French doors, Gray and I scurried inside. We were wearing fresh clothes in the nursery window seat by the time our teachers reappeared. Smiling brightly, we greeted them and asked for a tea service.

"You two scalawags aren't fooling me," Claudia Young exclaimed, her hands on her hips. "It's the same charade every year—a summons from Papa around when you're expected home from your first spring picnic."

Mr. Blanchard stood behind my governess and frowned at us. He didn't have to say a word; Miss Young always acted as the spokesperson for both. However, we knew he disapproved of our actions.

"We fell in, Miss Young," I stated innocently.

"Simultaneously," Grayson added, casting his eyes downward.

"I fail to see how you can both fall in at the same time," my governess complained, then added, "every year."

"That's just the way it is." I shrugged nonchalantly.

"Humph," Mr. Blanchard added his only comment to the situation.

"Miss Plumb was there with Joel," I continued glibly. "She was ever-so rude to us, wasn't she, Gray?"

"She was indeed." Grayson nodded rapidly.

"You deserved it at your age," Miss Young stated tersely. "You have outgrown your foolishness. It's about time you acted like ladies and gentlemen."

"I would say we've outgrown the nursery," I commented, nudging my brother. "Wouldn't you agree, Gray?"

Before he could respond, the nurserymaid appeared with the tea cart. We moved languidly toward the table where the governess presided. Miss Young poured out while Grayson and I sat beside each other demurely. We applied clotted cream and jam to our scones and sipped our refreshments.

Following afternoon tea, I stopped by the library to pick up a new copy of The Bostonians by Henry James. I looked forward to reading it to Mama and hoped to catch her alone. Miss Plumb habitually dominated her time, but she was out riding with Joel.

"Good afternoon, Mama," I sang, entering her suite. "I've brought the Bostonians." I showed her the book and then bent to kiss her cheek. "I hope you are well today, Mama."

"As well as I can expect," my mother responded, her voice dim. "Preparing for a wedding is quite exhausting."

"Yes, and so it must," I answered, pulling up a stool and sitting down. I opened the novel to page one. "Particularly with Charlotte Plumb. She's ever-so demanding."

"You shouldn't criticize, Priscilla, dear," my mother murmured, sinking back on her pillows. "However, my head does ache after a session with her."

I did not respond. Instead, I bent my head and began to read. I had barely finished the first page when the door banged open. Mama leaped in her skin and clasped her hands to her breasts. The blood rushed from her cheeks. Closing my book, I knelt beside her and took her thin hands in my warm ones.

"Don't you know how to knock?" I quickly chastised Miss Plumb. "You've given Mama a shock."

"Oh, have I?" Lottie smirked and swiftly approached the divan. "Joel and I stopped by the church on our way back. It's quite quaint. I didn't expect anything quite so small."

"It's not Westminster Abbey, you know," I snidely remarked.

"La," my nemesis remarked dismissively. Drawing a chair, she sat beside Mama and glared at me menacingly.

My mind grappled for an intelligent quip but failed to discover one. My shoulders sank, and I fled the room, pivoting on my heel. The door banged shut behind me. Angrily, I threw my novel against the wall. It clattered to the floor, and I stepped over it.

I longed for cozy afternoons with Mama. How I enjoyed reading to her out loud and her soft presence. Mama did not have much of a life, stuck in her rooms all the time. The little things were important to her. Miss Plumb interrupted our pleasure. She made me feel small and inconsequential.

As the wedding approached, I felt less and less important. My once happy life shriveled along with my heart. I felt a certain bitterness beginning to form within me. I knew I should not become jealous. Nevertheless, the awkward feeling continued to invade my consciousness. Balling my hands into fists, I willed it to stop, but I felt overcome by the intense emotion. 

Questions: 

Do you like picnics?

Was it fun when Grayson and Priscilla fell in the pond?

Why was Charlotte so rude to them while they played in the pond?

Is Miss Young too strict?

Is Priscilla taking Charlotte too seriously? Are her emotions in peril?