It's you in the sunrise, it's you in my cup
It's you all the way into town
It's your sweet "Hello, dear" that sets me up
And it's your "Got to go, dear" that gets me down
It's you on my pillow in all my dreams
Till once more the morning breaks through
What words could be saner or truer or plainer
Than it's you, it's you, yes, it's you, oh, yes it's you

This heartwarming little tune was a particular favorite of the four gentleman comprising River City's school board turned barbershop quartet, and they sang it often at town assemblies and events. It's You had claimed a special place in Marian's heart as well. Every time the members of the school board performed this song, Harold's eyes sought hers and – no matter where they were or how many others were around – he gazed at Marian like they were the only two people in the world.

Almost three months had passed since the night the River City boys' band played a halting, off-pitch Minuet in G, since Marian boldly defended Harold Hill to a hostile crowd that was itching to get their hands on tar and feathers. And it had been the most wonderful three months of Marian's life. To love, and be loved in return, was more glorious than she had ever dreamed. Even in late October, when the leaves of the trees had turned brilliant shades of red, orange and yellow and a crisp, autumn chill saturated the air, Harold behaved as though he was just as much in love with her as he had been that warm summer night when they shared their first passionate kiss on the footbridge.

But in the cheerful days after Harold's exoneration and acceptance by the townspeople as a permanent River City-zien, there was still a small part of Marian that wondered if this was just a phase Harold was going through. Being in love and living in one place was a novelty for him, and novelties were always thrilling. So even though she found Harold waiting for her outside the library every evening, without fail, Marian couldn't help but watch him for signs of a redeveloping wanderlust – or brace herself for a day when he wouldn't be there to escort her home.

But Harold seemed to have taken well to small-town life. He was always bursting with energy and ideas for fun things to do, and he kept things in River City as busy and bustling as when he organized a boys' band. Harold's latest project was a Halloween masque, with prizes awarded for the best costumes. In years past, Halloween hadn't been celebrated with much fanfare, the holiday being considered too frivolous and pagan by most of the townspeople. But when Harold stipulated that costumes would be limited to historical or literary figures, Mrs. Shinn and the other ladies on the Events Committee had enthusiastically backed the idea. Marian also applauded Harold's plan, as it had increased library patronage – she had never seen the books fly off her shelves so fast. It seemed nearly everybody in town was searching for inspiration for their costumes.

Unsurprisingly, Harold was most keen about the costume contest. With his cleverness and competitive spirit, Marian knew they had a good chance of winning. The two of them spent a long, pleasant afternoon sitting together on the swing in Marian's front yard and tossing around costume themes that would be good for couples.

It was Harold who opened the conversation. "Well, I've done some thinking, and I must say I like the idea of going as King Henry VIII – as he looked in his younger, more handsome years, of course."

Marian burst into laughter. "A merry, egotistical king – why I am not surprised that's the first thing you came up with? And which of your six queens shall I be? Anne Boleyn, perhaps, with a red ribbon at my throat?"

"A crimson choker with rubies, perhaps," Harold mused, looking intrigued. He delicately brushed her slender neck, his fingers leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake.

"Harold… " Marian began, in a softer voice than she had intended. It wasn't that she wasn't enjoying his caress – she most certainly was – but it was broad daylight, and they were sitting where anyone could walk by and see them.

But Harold was never a man to care much for propriety. "I like the way you think, Madam Librarian," he said in the low, velvety tone that indicated he was seconds away from kissing her.

Marian turned her head, and his lips landed on her cheek. "Now Harold, if you don't knock that off, we won't get a single thing done!" she said severely.

"What were we supposed to do, again?" he asked, looking a bit befuddled.

"Decide our costumes for the contest at the Halloween masque," she reminded him with an exasperated smile.

His expression was still one of confusion. "I thought we already decided that. I'm going as Henry VIII and you as Anne Boleyn – with a crimson ruby choker."

"Oh, I never consented to that!" Marian replied with a laugh. "You're the one who was so keen on that idea. But you're forgetting that I'm a fair-skinned blonde, whereas Anne Boleyn was known for her dark hair and olive complexion. People will think I'm Katherine Howard!"

"You have a fair point," Harold conceded, though his face fell a bit. "We could get you a brunette wig," he said hopefully.

Marian shook her head. "To tell you the truth, Anne Boleyn is a bit too grim for my tastes. But I do like the idea of us going as royalty – our costumes would be stunning! If it's opulence you want, how about we dress up as Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette?"

Harold chuckled. "Another beheaded queen, my dear little librarian? You just said Anne Boleyn was too grim for you!"

"Yes, but Marie Antoinette wasn't executed by her own husband," Marian retorted – then blushed as she realized what she had said. Harold was sure to think she was dropping hints, and the last thing she wanted to do was give him the idea that she was one of those desperate women who thought of nothing but marriage. While Marian could not deny she sometimes daydreamed about Harold proposing to her, she had been extremely careful about not doing or saying anything that would put pressure on him.

Indeed, Marian saw a brief flash of emotion in Harold's eyes. But before she could determine what it was, he broke into a grin. "How lucky I am, to have such a clever lady by my side! You're absolutely right – King Henry and Anne Boleyn is not an auspicious costume theme for a happy couple! But do you really think that the poor, guillotined Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette would be any more suitable?"

Marian smiled sheepishly. "I hadn't thought things through well enough before I spoke – "

Harold put a gentle finger to her lips. "I'm only teasing, darling," he said kindly. "I think it's a wonderful idea! In fact, I'm a little jealous that I hadn't thought of it first. Besides, the French queen's pastel gown and white bouffant would suit your complexion much better than one of Anne Boleyn's jewel-colored dresses."

"Just what I was thinking," Marian agreed, relieved that her blunder hadn't led to anything serious.

Silence fell between them. Normally, Marian would have been content to sit quietly with Harold, feeling the warmth of his arm around her as he rocked the swing gently back and forth. But now she was uneasy – all she could think of was the little flash of something she had seen in Harold's eyes.

After a few moments, Marian sneaked a glance at Harold. She was a bit startled to see him staring intently at her. He smiled when their eyes met, as if he had been waiting for her to turn to him.

"What is it?" she asked apprehensively.

He gave her a mischievous look. "I was just thinking… now that we've finally got the matter of our costumes settled, there's still the little matter of that kiss you owe me."

Marian knew she shouldn't encourage such naughtiness, but he was giving her that look again – the one she could never turn away from. "What kiss?" she whispered.

Harold leaned closer. "Repayment, for the one you dodged earlier... " Before she could protest, he met her mouth with his.

Once Harold started kissing her, Marian could never resist him. No longer caring where they were or who could see them, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer. As always, Harold enthusiastically welcomed her deepening of their embrace.

"Marian!" Mrs. Paroo's shrill voice rang out from the front porch.