It was Sunday afternoon, and Rose was dressed in her best, albeit plain, Sunday dress. It was dark blue, and decorated with several ribbons. She wore a simple straw boater that she also used to cover her head in church, with a blue ribbon tied around the cap, decorated with a few cotton flowers Anne had made for it. Her red-brown hair was tied in a neat, braided bun, that Rose had spent ages to tie into perfection, and Anne had had to fix after church, and she had curled her bangs. She had polished her black shoes, although it was hard to hide the fact that there was a hole in the toe box of one of them. When father had heard of the 'walk', he had allowed Rose to buy a simple white lace choker, which she now wore with pride. Over all, she felt prettier than she had in ages, and she hoped Andrew would appreciate the result of a full morning of fretting. 

She pressed her lips tight together and pinched her cheeks to stimulate the blood flow and knocked on the door of the bakery.