That afternoon, when the lower grades had been dismissed from their classrooms, Ramona found her father, along with Davy’s mother, waiting outside the door of Room 2 for their conferences with Mrs. Rogers. Davy’s mother’s appointment was first, so Mr. Quimby sat down on a chair outside the door with a folder of Ramona’s schoolwork to look over. Davy stood close to the door, hoping to hear what his teacher was saying about him. Everybody in Room 2 was anxious to learn what the teacher said.

Mr. Quimby opened Ramona’s folder. “Run along and play on the playground until I’m through,” he told his daughter.

“Promise you’ll tell me what Mrs. Rogers says about me,” said Ramona.

Mr. Quimby understood. He smiled and gave his promise.

Outside, the playground was chilly and damp. The only children who lingered were those whose parents had conferences, and they were more interested in what was going on inside the building than outside. Bored, Ramona looked around for something to do, and because she could find nothing better, she followed a traffic boy across the street. On the opposite side, near the market that had been built when she was in kindergarten, she decided she had time to explore. In a weedy space at the side of the market building, she discovered several burdock plants that bore a prickly crop of brown burs, each covered with sharp, little hooks.

Ramona saw at once that burs had all sorts of interesting possibilities. She picked two and stuck them together. She added another and another. They were better than Tinker-toys. She would have to tell Howie about them. When she had a string of burs, each clinging to the next, she bent it into a circle and stuck the ends together. A crown! She could make a crown. She picked more burs and built up the circle by making peaks all the way around like the crown the boy wore in the magarine commercial. There was only one thing to do with a crown like that. Ramona crowned herself—ta-da!—like the boy on television.

Prickly though it was, Ramona enjoyed wearing the crown. She practiced looking surprised, like the boy who ate the margarine, and pretended she was rich and famous and about to meet her father, who would be driving a big shiny car bought with the million dollars she had earned.

The traffic boys had gone off duty. Ramona remembered to look both ways before she crossed the street, and as she crossed she pretended people were saying, “There goes that rich girl. She earned a million dollars eating margarine on TV.”

Mr. Quimby was standing on the playground, looking for Ramona. Forgetting all she had been pretending, Ramona ran to him. “What did Mrs. Rogers say about me?” she demanded.

“That’s some crown you’ve got there,” Mr. Quimby remarked.

“Daddy, what did she say?” Ramona could not contain her impatience.