Free Amelia Earhart: Lady Lindy by Ann Hood

noticed that many people held maps, which they checked frequently.
    â€œExcuse me,” Maisie said to two women who stood side by side in pale, ruffled dresses, each studying a map. “May I take a look at one of those, please?”
    â€œIt is confusing, isn’t it?” the woman in the white dress said as she handed Maisie her map. “We’re on the Plaza of St. Louis, that I know for sure because there’s the statue of St. Louis of France right over there.”
    â€œUh-huh,” Maisie said, trying to make sense of this information.
    Felix pointed to the heading at the top of the map.
    â€œThe Louisiana Purchase Exposition,” he read out loud. “We’re in Louisiana?”
    The woman in the white dress laughed.
    â€œThe exposition is celebrating the one hundredth anniversary of Thomas Jefferson’s vision of a continental United States by purchasing the Louisiana Territory.”
    Her friend, a confection in pale yellow ruffles, added, “And to honor Lewis and Clark’s journey west.”
    â€œOkay,” Maisie said, frustrated. “We’re not in the Philippines. We’re not in France, even though that statue is of some guy from France. And we’re not in Louisiana even though the name of this . . . exposition . . . is the Louisiana Purchase.”
    The women laughed.
    â€œStop teasing us!” the one in yellow scolded playfully. “You know you’re in St. Louis, Missouri, at the 1904 World’s Fair.”
    Maisie and Felix looked at each other, their hearts sinking.
    â€œMissouri?” Felix said. “Not Minnesota?”
    â€œSilly!” the one in yellow laughed.
    â€œLet’s go to the Palace of Transportation next, Myrtle,” the other one said.
    She glanced down at Maisie and Felix and her map.
    â€œThey have all one hundred and forty automobiles that have been driven to the fair under their own power in there,” she told them.
    â€œUnder their own power?” Maisie asked. “What does that mean?”
    â€œIt means a man got into one of those automobiles and drove it here!” the woman exclaimed.
    Maisie and Felix looked at each other.
    â€œOkay,” Maisie said.
    â€œThey drove from as far away as Chicago!” the woman said.
    When Maisie and Felix didn’t look impressed, she added, “And Philadelphia! And Boston!”
    â€œWow,” Felix said, to be polite.
    â€œHarumph,” the woman said, taking back the map. “Considering that just last year someone drove an automobile all the way across the entire country,
I
find it impressive that all of a sudden men are driving them everywhere.”
    With that, she and her friend started down the six-hundred-foot-wide plaza.

    Maisie peered at the monument that rose at the other end. One hundred feet high, a winged sculpture sat on top of a big globe. On a hill at that end, people streamed into a building with a giant, gold-leafed dome.
    â€œLet’s go down there and see what’s going on,” Maisie suggested.
    But before Felix could reply, a group of teenagers rushed by them, shouting: “Geronimo! Geronimo!”
    One of the boys paused long enough to grab Maisie’s arm.
    â€œHe’s on display in the Ethnology Exhibit!” the boy said excitedly. “Autographs are only ten cents!”
    Maisie let herself get swept up in the group of teenagers.
    Reluctantly, Felix followed, trying to figure out how Geronimo, the famous Apache war chief, could be on “display.” After Maisie and Felix had met Crazy Horse, Felix had read a lot of books about Native Americans. He knew that Geronimo had led fierce attacks in the West after soldiers killed his mother, wife, and children. Eventually, he’d surrendered and became a prisoner of war for the rest of his life. Were prisoners of war on display here? Felix wondered.
    Soon enough, they arrived at a giant tepee. In front of it sat a very