"Why, a bride, of course--a bride all in white with a lovely misty veil.
I've never seen one, but I can imagine what she would look like. I don't
ever expect to be a bride myself. I'm so homely nobody will ever want to
marry me--unless it might be a foreign missionary. I suppose a foreign
missionary mightn't be very particular. But I do hope that some day I
shall have a white dress. That is my highest ideal of earthly bliss. I
just love pretty clothes. And I've never had a pretty dress in my life
that I can remember--but of course it's all the more to look forward
to, isn't it? And then I can imagine that I'm dressed gorgeously. This
morning when I left the asylum I felt so ashamed because I had to wear
this horrid old wincey dress. All the orphans had to wear them, you
know. A merchant in Hopeton last winter donated three hundred yards of
wincey to the asylum. Some people said it was because he couldn't sell
it, but I'd rather believe that it was out of the kindness of his heart,
wouldn't you? When we got on the train I felt as if everybody must be
looking at me and pitying me. But I just went to work and imagined that
I had on the most beautiful pale blue silk dress--because when you ARE
imagining you might as well imagine something worth while--and a big
hat all flowers and nodding plumes, and a gold watch, and kid gloves and
boots. I felt cheered up right away and I enjoyed my trip to the Island
with all my might. I wasn't a bit sick coming over in the boat. Neither
was Mrs. Spencer although she generally is. She said she hadn't time
to get sick, watching to see that I didn't fall overboard. She said she
never saw the beat of me for prowling about. But if it kept her from
being seasick it's a mercy I did prowl, isn't it? And I wanted to see
everything that was to be seen on that boat, because I didn't know
whether I'd ever have another opportunity. Oh, there are a lot more
cherry-trees all in bloom! This Island is the bloomiest place. I just
love it already, and I'm so glad I'm going to live here. I've always
heard that Prince Edward Island was the prettiest place in the world,
and I used to imagine I was living here, but I never really expected I
would. It's delightful when your imaginations come true, isn't it?
But those red roads are so funny. When we got into the train at
Charlottetown and the red roads began to flash past I asked Mrs. Spencer
what made them red and she said she didn't know and for pity's sake not
to ask her any more questions. She said I must have asked her a thousand
already. I suppose I had, too, but how you going to find out about
things if you don't ask questions? And what DOES make the roads red?"