There's a story in Road to Yesteryear that mentions Ken buying Rilla's pie at a barn dance. I've decided for my purposes that it happens several weeks before the dance at the light before the war. We know that Rilla has always been interested in Ken, but when did Ken start seeing Rilla differently? I do not own anything; I am just borrowing the characters for awhile.
Ken paused at the entrance to the barn, his ankle throbbing. For the tenth time that day, he inwardly cursed the Redmond player who had broken his ankle during the Homecoming game. Susan Baker would have been horrified to know that Ken cursed at all, but Ken had been learning many things that would have shocked Susan from the somewhat fast crowd he had been keeping company with in Toronto. He brightened slightly seeing the Ingleside and Manse boys on the other side of the room. Crossing the room, he felt the glances of the Island girls admiring his white summer suit, the latest in Toronto fashion.
"Gentlemen, what's the good word today?"
"Pies, pies of all sorts today. Are you in the mood for something sweet?" Jem replied in the manner of a carnival barker, "You did make it over. How's the ankle holding up? What did the doctor say?" Jem began to peer down at his friend's ankle as if he might begin to examine it at any given moment.
Ken replied, "I don't think you need to examine it right now when the Fair Faith's pie is about to go on the block. It's still bothers me, and I may come over to get your father's opinion soon. I swear so many times I'd like to see that confounded Nicholas get what he deserves." Ken finished with more than a trace of bitterness at the lineman who he held responsible for the injury.
"Ted Nicholas is my roommate and fraternity brother," Jerry stated coolly, "and I doubt there's a more fair man in Kingsport."
"How do you know its Faith's pie?" Shirley asked. Shirley was the Blythe that had inherited his father's temper, the one that could withstand having a slate cracked over his head. If an argument was brewing, Shirley was usually the one to redirect everyone's attention.
"Sure, kiddo. See how Faith's hair is tied with blue and yellow ribbons? Now look at the box. It's tied with the same ribbons. A fellow has to be wise to that sort of thing. You wouldn't want to accidentally bid on Irene Howard's pie and spend an afternoon with those goggle eyes. I still have nightmares about the time I went to Avonlea with you and met the Sloanes."
"Mother says the Howards are related to both the Sloanes and the Pyes," Walter added, "I'll believe her as you can see there is no poetry in Irene's soul."
Ken laughed, "I think it's her lips not her soul that I care about containing poetry."
None of the fellows responded. Ken rolled his eyes to himself. The Blythes and Merediths were a good bunch, but they didn't have the certain tang of his friends in Toronto. It was the twentieth century after all; no man was going to wait until after he had proposed to kiss a girl. He turned and viewed the next two boxes. The boxes were identical except one was pink and one was green. He could tell by the crust that they were pinched in a way distinctive to the Ingleside kitchen. He, also, knew that red haired Diana would never be near anything pink unlike her twin, Nan. He made up his mind to win one of the boxes. He considered both to be good friends and would enjoy spending an afternoon with either.
The auctioneer held up the pink box, "Opening bid, who will give me one dollar to spend an afternoon with the pretty baker of this pie?"
Several of the boys raised their hands for one, and for two, less held them up for three. Ken glanced over and saw Jerry glaring at him flexing his hand. Ken remembered a letter he had received from Walter about how much time Nan and Jerry had spent together this past winter at Redmond. Ken was pretty sure ministers in training were not supposed to slug old friends but decided that discretion was the better part of valor. Jerry won the pie for five dollars.
"Thank you and enjoy your afternoon," the auctioneer said, "Now who will start the bidding on this next pie that I understand is very special? One dollar, one?"
At least a dozen boys raised their hand. The bidding continued up, and Ken felt his determination to win rise. At eight dollars, only Carl, Fred Arnold, and Ken were left. Carl glanced around and shrugged grinning at the young boy and college man. He knew that the baker of the pie had been worried that the pie would not get many bids. It didn't seem like a problem since Fred had just bid eleven dollars, which had to be his last six months' allowance.
Ken drew himself up to his full height and loudly stated, "Fifteen dollars" to the auctioneer. Fred's face fell in disappointment. There was no way he could outbid the son of a famous author.
"Our highest bid so far! Please go over to the table to pay and meet the lady who will be entertaining you this afternoon. The Ladies Auxiliary will thank you."
Victory had allowed Ken to relax and smile as he made his way over to the door, this time easily returning the greetings of old friends. As he made his way through the door, he saw Rilla waiting for him. "Rilla! What are you doing at the pie auction? Did you see me just win Di's?"
Rilla drew a deep breath and spoke with an odd precision, "Mother and Father agreed I was old enough to enter a pie in the auction, after all I am nearly fifteen. My pie was tied in a green box like Nan's pink one."
Ken was taken back. He had never considered that the pie could be Rilla's. However, it was a beautiful day, and Rilla had always been nice to him when they were alone or with Walter. When she was with Persis, they were usually trying to terrorize him, but that probably said more about his sister than her.
"Then it's my lucky day, where do you suggest we have our picnic?"
"What about the garden at the Houthe of Dreamth?" Rilla had forgotten to watch her speech in her excitement over sharing a lunch with Ken.
"Sounds like a plan. I've wanted to check on it anyway. What adventures do you have planned? I heard you finished school this spring. Are you going to Queens?"
"No, I really have no interest in studying any more dusty books. I'm not sure how Mother has used her B.A. since marrying Father."
"You have plenty of time to decide anyway. What will you do?"
Rilla smiled, "Go to dances and have beaux fighting over my last dance."
"Ah, a girl after my own heart. Here we are." Ken and Rilla spread out the blanket in the garden and began to unpack the picnic.
"Will you be able to play football in the fall?"
"The doctors aren't sure, but at least they haven't forbidden it yet." Ken was quiet for the moment. He wanted to be a journalist and read the newspaper each morning. If the situation in Europe didn't even out soon, he was afraid no one would be playing football in the fall. But that was not today; today he was on a picnic. "Are Carl Meredith and Fred Arnold lining up to be your beaux?"
"Carl is not. He and I made a solemn vow five years ago that we were good friends and would never marry each other. I was afraid no one would bid on my pie today so I made Carl promise to bid on it."
"It was the one with the highest bidder today. I don't think you have to worry, besides who wouldn't want to share a meal with the prettiest of the Blythe girls."
"Thank you. I am pretty, aren't I? Sometimes I think it, but Nan and Di always point out how vain I am."
"Maybe they are jealous, it can't be easy to be outshone by your baby sister," Ken realized he meant the practiced lines that were coming out of his mouth. "Anyway, what about Fred Arnold?"
"I like Fred, but….well, he's hardly a romantic figure," Rilla sighed, "Beside each time we take a walk. Miss Cornelia comes to the house and points out that he's a Methodist. I'm not sure what's wrong with the Methodists."
"It's not them, it's her. Next time tell her that when I was in Paris, I danced with –" Ken broke off and grinned while he lowered his voice, "A Catholic. Nothing wrong with them either, but it will certainly shock Miss Cornelia."
"I don't think I will. What was Paris like? It sounds divine." Rilla tried out a word she had read in a magazine recently.
"It was quite beautiful. I adored Prague, there's so much poetry there that even Walter would tire of it."
"I doubt that, but it sounds wonderful."
"You would enjoy London. All the titled ladies and gentlemen think that Canada is a wild untamed place, as if Toronto was no different from Dawson City. They find out that we are civilized and cannot wait to invite "the famous writer and his family just must come to our ball; it will be utterly too-too"
"They still have balls? I would love to dance the night away at one."
"The gentleman has to sign the lady's dance card early in the evening. If he interrupts a dance, why it could be pistols at dawn!"
"Really?"
"No, but they do say things like 'milady, would you please do me the honor of sharing the next waltz with me," Ken stood and bowed low over Rilla.
She grinned and reached for the fan she had placed in her pocket, "Why thank you, kind sir." She snapped open her fan to hide her face.
Ken took her hand and pulled her up to dance. Rilla was a natural dancer. "London would declare you 'a smash.' You would love it. Maybe I should talk to Mother and Father about inviting you the next time they travel. I know Persis would appreciate company besides her ancient brother." Ken had a sudden vision of Rilla in a ball gown. He felt a bit breathless and missed the next step. "Drat this ankle."
"Oh! Is it bothering you? We should sit down. Tell me what Persis has been doing lately. I have to say she's not the best correspondent. How is college in Toronto?"
"I'll be alright. College is wonderful. I've met so many interesting people - women fighting for their right to vote and be in the government; men interested in flying around the world. Everyone is so eager to experience life. We spend time sitting around and debating the beginnings and end of this world and our place in it. It's so…stimulating. Persis – where to start? She does spend a lot of time with my friends and me. I'm not sure if the fellows will break her heart or she theirs. Don't tell anyone but she smokes cigarettes when we are out. Most of the suffragettes do, I think it's to show that women can do anything men can. She's cut her hair up to here." Ken leaned forward to mark a spot halfway between Rilla's ear and shoulder, but he lost his train of thought as he looked into her eyes from this closer perspective.
Rilla swallowed and blushed, "I would be locked in my room for any of those things."
"You're blushing," Ken moved his hand closer to her cheek.
"No! I hate when I blush. I look like such a child."
"It's pretty. It means that you haven't developed the hard shell that so many have today. Maybe I want to say more things to make you blush."
Rilla looked down as Ken moved his hand to her chin. What would happen next was lost as the pair heard voices through the trees. Both straightened up and looked everywhere but at each other.
"I should gather these dishes up before the crowd arrives," Rilla started to turn towards the blanket.
"Milady, please sit. What kind of knight lets so fair a maiden complete such menial tasks? Your humble knight will gather yon dishes."
Rilla curtsied and giggled feeling on solid ground once again. "Why thank you, kind sir."
Ken handed the dishes to Rilla, who placed them in the picnic basket. "I think that is the last one." Ken held out his hand to help Rilla stand. "Thank you for the lovely afternoon, milady." Ken gave a theatrical bow and pressed a kiss into Rilla's white hand. He had meant the moment to keep with the courtly spirit they had shared during the afternoon; however he was startled by his desire to keep holding the slim white hand. In Toronto, he was usually more than happy to return the young lady to her Mama at the end of an outing. "Will you be at the Harbor Light Dance?"
"Yes. Mother says I may. It will be my first dance. I simply cannot stand the wait. I want to wear the slippers Aunt Leslie sent me for Christmas last year."
"Ah, your first chance to begin to gather those many beaus. Will you promise to save me a waltz?"
"Of courthe," Rilla winced as the lisp came out. Ken's smile was making her heart race with the wind, but it was the look in his eyes that took her breath away.
Anything else Ken would have said was lost as the crush of assorted Blythes and Meridiths broke through the trees. Rilla was swept away by a giggling Diana and Una. Ken stood watching her for a second before he became aware of a pair of dark eyes studying him, and a hand on his arm. "Walter, old man! Which lovely lady did you share a pie with this afternoon?"
"If you hurt my sister, I will have to hurt you," Walter stated this calmly as if threatening harm to his oldest friend was a commonplace event.
"I would not dream of it. I didn't realize until today what a sweet young lady she has become." Ken protested
"She is only fourteen, and no matter what she says, she's not as sophisticated as Toronto girls."
"Walter, I promise you I have no intention of toying with her. I value my friendship with your family to ever too much."
"Are you coming?"
"No, I'd better head over Harbour." Ken turned and walked away. He was slightly upset that Walter would worry about his treatment of Rilla. Yes, he enjoyed his time with the fairer gender as much as they seemed to enjoy his. To his knowledge, he had never broken a heart so severely that chocolate bonbons could not heal it. Now was not going to be the time he started. Ken rounded the bend in the road and reached into his jacket pocket for a cigar. As he did, he noticed a delicate handkerchief with BMB embroidered in the corner laying on the ground. Rilla was truly the sweetest girl he had ever met and one of the prettiest. He would have a hard time claiming his waltz at the dance. Ken smiled as he stooped to pick it up, if he had to return the cloth it would give him a reason to interrupt a dance. He began to whistle along with the faint piping he could hear coming from across the water. Ken had yet to realize how the Piper's piping would affect the dance at the lighthouse. Or that he would be like many others who would take such a small token with them to Flander's fields and to the trenches of France.
At one point while Rilla's getting ready for Ken's farewell visit, she hopes that he will ask for a handkerchief or rose that she's kissed like Jem and Jerry have taken. I thought it would be interesting if Ken did take something, but she didn't know it.