priceless, little dishes of gold lacquer, old silver, or fragile porcelain. The small maiden owner receives grown-up as well as younger guests on that day, and gives them tea—the thick, horrid ceremonial sort usually—and minute cakes, with pink sugar Peach blossoms on top.
Every little girl in the land, even if her parents are too poor to provide dolls for her on this festival, has a Peach blossom to sniff at and to set up in the takenomo—a real one usually, but at least a paper one, and that so perfectly made that it would deceive any but the elect. Another pink bloom adorns the glossy black hair, and probably the dainty kimono shows the flowers all through its graceful folds of crêpe, or its glowing colour in lining or in obi. So the day may as well be called the ‘Peach Festival’ as the ‘Little Girls’ Birthday’ or the ‘Dolls’ Fête.’
March the 17th and the next six days following are the Buddhist equinoctial festival of Higan, most important to all those who love gardens. On the day of the equinox the sun is supposed to whirl round and round at sunset. Perhaps it does, but, as the Japanese sky is usually dark with rain at that time, one cannot say for certain.
April the 8th is Buddha’s birthday, and this, like the Koto Hajime, is celebrated as if its scene were New England, by cleaning houses and systems of the supposed-to-have-been-pent-
