the midday sun
So the three children started off , merry as larks , with their trusty companion . On either side of the turnpike road were green fields flushed with light . The morning air stirred about them , redolent in sweet scents and attuned with the many voices of summer . They heard the drowsy hum of bees ; and butterflies were there , thick as motes in the midday sun . Roberta 's observant , nature-loving eyes roved delightedly from one point to another of the sunny landscape , while she repeated gaily to Mam ' Sarah a little couplet . The child 's memory was stored with quaint rhymes : `` A country lane between fields of clover Rippling in sunshine over and over . There the whirl of gay revelrie , Butterflies waltzing mad with glee , Honey-bees , powdered in dust of gold , Chassezing around like gay knights of old , Clad in silken doublet and hose ; Lookout , lookout , if you tread on their toes . ''