Perhaps these were neither the garments nor the airs in which every
farmer-maiden did her baking. But then, Sally was no ordinary
farmer-maiden. She was all this, it is true, but she was, besides, grace
and color and charm itself. And if she chose to bake in such attire--or,
even, if she chose to pretend to do so, where was the churl to say her
nay, even though the flour was part of a deliberate "make up"? Certainly
he was not at the store that summer morning.
And Seffy was there. Her hair escaped redness by only a little. But that
little was just the difference between ugliness and beauty. For, whether
Sally were beautiful or not--about which we might contend a bit--her
hair was, and perhaps that is the reason why it was nearly always
uncovered--or, possibly, again, because it was so much uncovered was the
reason it was beautiful. It seemed to catch some of the glory of the
sun. Her face had a few freckles and her mouth was a trifle too large.
But, in it were splendid teeth.
In short, by the magic of brilliant color and natural grace she narrowly
escaped being extremely handsome--in the way of a sunburned peach, or a
maiden's-blush apple.
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