Annabelle was the first to speak. “Just now, when you were talking to that squirrel, you didn’t stammer.”

“Oh.” Suddenly abashed, Evie lowered her gaze and grimaced. “I never stammer when I’m talking to children or animals. I don’t know why.”

They pondered the puzzling information for a moment. “I’ve noticed that you never seem to stammer quite as much when you’re talking to me,” Daisy observed.

Lillian could not seem to resist the comment. “Which category do you fall into, dear? Children, or animals?”

Daisy responded with a hand gesture that was completely unfamiliar to Annabelle.

Annabelle was about to ask Evie if she had ever consulted a doctor about her stammering, but the redhaired girl abruptly changed the subject. “Where is the R-rounders ball, Daisy? If we don’t play soon, I’ll fall asleep.”

Realizing that Evie didn’t want to discuss her stammering any longer, Annabelle seconded the request. “I suppose if we’re really going to do it, now is as good a time as any.”

While Daisy dug in the basket for the ball, Lillian unearthed an item from her own basket. “Look what I’ve brought,” she said smugly.

Daisy looked up with a delighted laugh. “A real bat!” she exclaimed, regarding the flat-sided object admiringly. “And I thought we’d have to use a plain old stick. Where did you get it, Lillian?”

“I borrowed it from one of the stableboys. It seems they sneak away for Rounders whenever possible— they’re quite passionate about the game.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” Daisy asked rhetorically, beginning on the buttons of her bodice. “Gracious, the day is warm—it will be lovely to shed all these layers.”

As the Bowman sisters unfastened their gowns with the casual manner of girls not unaccustomed to disrobing out in the open, Annabelle and Evie regarded each other in a moment of uncertainty.

“I dare you,” Evie murmured.

“Oh, God,” Annabelle said in an aggrieved tone, and began to unbutton her own dress. She had discovered an unexpected streak of modesty that brought a rush of color to her face. However, she was not going to turn coward when even timid Evie Jenner was willing to join in the rebellion against propriety. Pulling her arms from the sleeves of her dress, she stood and let the heavy overlay fall in a crumpled mound at her feet. Left in her chemise, drawers, and corset, her feet covered only by stockings and thin slippers, she felt a breeze waft over the perspiration-dampened places beneath her arms, and she shivered pleasantly.

The other girls stood and shed their own gowns, which lay heaped on the ground like gigantic exotic flowers.

“Catch!” Daisy said, and tossed the ball to Annabelle, who caught it reflexively. They all walked to the center of the meadow, pitching the ball back and forth. Evie was the worst at throwing and catching, though it was clear that her ineptitude was caused by inexperience rather than clumsiness. Annabelle, on the other hand, had a younger brother who had frequently turned to her as a playmate, and so the mechanics of lobbing a ball were familiar to her.

It was the oddest, lightest feeling, walking outside with her legs unimpeded by the weight of skirts. “I suppose this is what men feel like,” Annabelle mused aloud, “being able to stroll here and there in trousers. One could almost envy them such freedom.”

“Almost?” Lillian questioned with a grin. “Without question, I do envy them. Wouldn’t it be lovely if women could wear trousers?”

“I w-wouldn’t like it at all,” Evie said. “I would die of embarrassment if a man were able to see the shape of my legs and my…” She hesitated, clearly searching for a word to describe unmentionable parts of the female anatomy. “…other things,” she finished lamely.

“Your chemise is in a sad state, Annabelle,” came Lillian’s sudden blunt observation. “I hadn’t thought to give you new underwear, though I should have realized…”

Annabelle shrugged offhandedly. “It doesn’t matter, since this is the only occasion on which anyone will see it.”

Daisy glanced at her older sister. “Lillian, we’re abominably shortsighted. I think poor Annabelle drew the short straw when it came to fairy godmothers.”

“I haven’t complained,” Annabelle said, laughing. “And as far as I can tell, the four of us are all riding in the same pumpkin.”

After a few more minutes of practice, and a brief discussion of the rules of Rounders, they set out empty picnic baskets in lieu of sanctuary posts, and the game began. Annabelle planted her feet squarely on a spot that had been designated as “Castle Rock.”

“I’ll feed the ball to her,” Daisy said to her older sister, “and you catch.”

“But I have a better arm than you,” Lillian grumbled, taking a position behind Annabelle nevertheless.

Holding the bat over her shoulder, Annabelle swung at the ball that Daisy threw. The bat failed to connect, and whistled through the air in a neat arc. Behind her, Lillian expertly caught the ball. “That was a good swing,” Daisy encouraged. “Keep watching the ball as it comes toward you.”

“I’m not accustomed to standing still while objects are being hurled at me,” Annabelle said, brandishing the bat once again. “How many tries do I get?”

“In Rounders, the striker has an infinite number of swings,” came Lillian’s voice behind her. “Have another go, Annabelle…and this time, try to imagine that the ball is Mr. Hunt’s nose.”