The March girls never lacked ideas about how to keep themselves entertained at home.
And having a piano in the house only added to the fun.
"Beth, can you play this one next?"
Amy asked about an old folk song she had liked as a little girl.
"It reminds me of my childhood," the 12-year-old girl recalled fondly.
Mother turned away, hiding a smile, while Jo rolled her eyes and said in a teasing tone,
"And now that you are so old, you want to relive the days of your youth, do you?"
"You don't know how hard my life is right now," Amy started to protest.
Before a quarrel could start, Beth hastily began playing Amy's request.
It was true what Amy said. School had changed quite a bit since her older sisters had attended.
Nowadays, girls Amy's age were more outspoken, bold, and daring.
As a result, some girls pressured others to do things they would not normally do.
Wanting to please and be accepted, sometimes they gave in to the pressure, as Amy did today.
The day started off like any other day: Meg and Jo were running late as usual, thanks to Jo.
Beth was dressed and ready to leave for Mr. Laurence's.
Mother and Hannah had faithfully prepared everyone's breakfast and packed Amy's lunch.
Amy, on the other hand, was unusually quiet.
Noticing her sister's odd behavior, Meg asked, "Is there something the matter, Amy?"
Dramatically shaking her head, Amy sighed, then lamented, "Yes, there is."
"Won't you tell me what it is?"
Meg further inquired, keeping one eye on Jo, who had come downstairs just a second earlier but then stomped back up muttering under her breath.
Amy brushed her golden curls, lowered her eyes, and said in a soft, pitiful voice,
"Today is my turn to buy limes for the girls but I haven't got any money."
"Limes? What for?" Meg asked, surprised.
"Well, Christina, Katy, Mary, and Julia . . ."
Amy named the most popular girls in her school and continued, ". . . started the most marvelous game.
Each week a girl buys a bag of limes and gives one to her true friends.
If you are given a lime, that means that you are considered a friend.
And the girls have all been so kind to me.
I never knew I had so many friends!" Amy cried modestly.
"So today you are the one handing out the limes," Meg stated.
Nodding, Amy exclaimed, "Oh, dearest Meg! Could you help me out?
I don't even have a penny! What will the girls think if I don't have any limes to give them?"
Sweet understanding Meg merely opened her purse and took out a quarter.
(Now back in those days, a quarter was worth a lot of money!
Just see how many limes Amy could buy with 25 cents!)
"Thank you!" squealed Amy, jumping up and down and hugging her sister.
"A quarter will get me a bag of 25, maybe 26, if Mr. Peters gives me an extra.
The girls will be so pleased!" Yelling her loud good-byes cheerfully to everyone, Amy dashed out the door, clutching the quarter tightly in her hand.
"What's made her so happy all of a sudden?" barked Jo, taking two stairs at a time.
"I'll tell you on the way," Meg smiled as she and Jo also left the house.
Before going to school, Amy raced over to Mr. Peter's, the grocer, and bought a big bag of limes.
As Amy had hoped, he included one extra.
Carrying the limes to school made Amy feel powerful, since she could choose who would be her friend or not.
Holding her head up high and proud, Amy walked into her classroom, deliberately rustling the paper bag so the sound would attract the ears of the other girls.
As she expected, some girls ran over to her at once, complimenting her hair, her outfit, and anything else they could think of.
"Amy! Your hair looks so soft today!" shrieked one girl.
"Where did you get that dress? I want the exact same one!" cried another.
Soon Amy was surrounded by most of her classmates, each one trying to get a lime to prove they were her friend.
"Amy? Is that you?" asked a girl who walked over, wearing a pretty pink dress and matching ribbon.
The crowd moved to make room for her.
She glided lightly across and stood before Amy.
"Hello, Mary," Amy said cheerfully as she opened her bag and chose a plump shiny green lime to give to her.
Accepting the lime with just a smile and nod, Mary glided past Amy and went to her desk.
"Hi, Amy! What's in the bag?" asked another girl walking over, wearing a green and white dress.
It was Jenny, who had handed out limes last week, but didn't give one to Amy.
"How cheeky! She knows what I have," Amy thought to herself.
Aloud she smiled and said in an extra sweet voice, "Oh, it's nothing special."
Jenny's eyes flashed and she was about to say something nasty when Kitty, Amy's best friend, grabbed her arm and said, "He's coming!"
The girls scattered to their seats.
Amy shoved the bag of limes into her desk and sat up straight, trying to look innocent.
Mr. Davis, the teacher, a thin, balding man in his thirties, had only one complaint in life: that he was teaching a class of girls.
With boys, all Mr. Davis needed to do was lift his stick, furrow his eyebrows and frown, and the class would do just as he instructed.
With girls, Mr. Davis quickly learned, it was very different.
Many tears, tantrums, and frequent silent treatments resulted if he tried to discipline them in any way.
Still, Mr. Davis was very strict and stuck to his methods no matter what.
That should have warned the girls since he had made it clear from the beginning that they were not to bring any limes to school.
"Good morning, class," Mr. Davis greeted the girls in his usual mechanical way.
"We have a quiz this morning and I expect all of you to . . ."
His speech was interrupted by Jenny, who frantically waved her hand in the air.
Frowning, Mr. Davis asked, "Yes, Jenny?"
"Mr. Davis, I have an allergy and I think someone here has what I'm allergic to," she said in an innocent voice.
"What would that be?" Mr. Davis sighed.
"Lemons . . . ," she paused then continued, ". . . and limes."
Everyone gasped loudly. Amy felt her cheeks burn and her heart pump loudly.
Mr. Davis did not say anything at first, but after what seemed like forever, he spoke in a calm but threatening tone.
"Who has brought limes to school? Who has deliberately broken my rule?"
Mr. Davis slapped his thin stick against the palm of his hand.
No one dared to speak, because everyone, including Amy, knew that Mr. Davis would surely use that stick on anyone who broke his rules.