They watched as Hanna bent to pluck an old dandelion’s pale puffball. “Now she’s about to spread weed seeds across my fields,” Picket said. “I’m coming around to your view on treason.” Hanna blew hard on the puffball. It burst and sent tiny white plumes sailing out in all directions. Jo squealed with delight, so Hanna plucked one for him and carefully instructed him in the art. Picket groaned. “And now the plot has blossomed. It’s a conspiracy now. The jury finds the offending niece guilty of treason.”
