Today, Uncle George and Uncle Neville had gathered them up to pick wildflowers to place at the tables for lunch. The wildflowers that grew in the meadows close to The Burrow matched every color of the rainbow. Lyra had foregone a basket, insisting that the dress Aunt Pansy put her in was poofy enough to hold dozens and dozens of the blooms. (She'd asked permission and she'd gotten it, even though Aunt Pansy seemed hesitant at first.)