Pearl sat with a group of lasses from the Great Smial in the second sun room where the tweens tended to congregate, each of them with some piece of needlecraft in hand.
Linden looked up from her woolwork to ask, “And is that bodice for your mother, Pearl?”
Pearl smiled. “Oh, no—it’s for me to wear for Yule. My Brandybuck relatives and Cousin Frodo will be coming, you see, and I truly want to look my best.”
And as she wrought yet another daisy blossom about the neckline, she embroidered upon how she planned to fascinate her intended.