It was her intention to build something in the nature of a high, high hill.

She patted the surface of the sand, and behold! it was instantly a beautiful shape, very smooth and shining.
It was hot, her hat fell back, her knees were thick with the good brown earth--that once lovely creation of Florice was stained and black.
She then began softly, partly to herself, partly to her father, and partly to that other Friend who had helped her to these splendours, a song of joy and happiness.

To the ordinary observer, it might have seemed merely a discordant noise proceeding from a little girl engaged in the making of mud pies.

It was, in reality, as the chestnut tree, the birds, the fountain, the flowers, the various small children, even the very earth she played with, understood, a fine offering--thanksgiving and triumphal pan to the God of Heaven, of the earth, and of the waters that were under the earth.
Munty himself caught the refrain.

He was recalled to a day when mud pies had been to him also things of surpassing joy.