JOSIE PYE: I believe Anne Shirley just copied that story. I am sure I remember reading it in a newspaper years ago.

MRS. BOULTER: Well, I'm sorry to hear she's taken to writing novels at all. Nobody born and bred in Avonlea would do it.

MRS. HARRISON: Been writing anymore stories lately, Miss Shirley.

ANNE: No, Mrs. Harrison.

MRS. HARRISON: Well, no offense, ma'am. Mable Sloane here says that she found another one of them big manilla envelopes come through here a couple of weeks ago, that's all.

MRS. SLOANE: It was addressed to the Rollings Reliable Baking Powder Company in Montreal. My suspicion that someone was trying for that prize that they were offering for the best story introducing the new baking powder. The address wasn't in your handwriting, though.

ANNE: I should hope not. I'd never dream of competing for anything so disgraceful. It would almost be as bad as Jake Griffith's Chataghua Show.

MRS. BOULTER: But that's what comes of Marilla Cuthbert adopting an orphan from Goodness-knows-where or what kind of parents.

JOSIE PYE: Why, Anne! Congratulations!

MRS. BOULTER: You have such a way of putting Avonlea on the map.

ANNE: Thank you. But what do you mean? Congratulations for what?

JOSIE PYE: You were always such a terrible fake at modesty, even during public school.

MRS. BOULTER: Well, there's nothing fake about the business Lawson's General Store intends to do from all this.

JOSIE PYE: And I think that blue you're wearing is so dramatic for a young authoress. You almost look pretty in it.

ANNE: Ah, don't say things you don't mean, Josie.

JOSIE PYE: That Anne Shirley is so smug.

MRS. BOULTER: That girl always did give herself airs.

[Anne walks down street toward Lawson's General Store.]

TWO BOYS: Congratulations!

MAN 1: Congratulations, Anne.

WOMAN 1: It was a wonderful story, Anne. Congratulations.

MAN 2: Splendid story, Anne. You deserve the best.

MAN 3: Congratulations, Miss Shirley!

ANTHONY PYE: Congratulations, Miss Shirley! I really liked the bit about the cake!

ANNE: Great Jehoshephat!

ALICE LAWSON: Anne Shirley, we've been trying to track you down everywhere. Oh, ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you Avonlea's famous authoress. Father, come out here.

MR. LAWSON: Oh my Goodness, Miss Shirley.

ANNE: I don't understand.

ALICE LAWSON: You won the contest, you goose! And I knew you'd go into it all behind our backs.

MR. LAWSON: Quiet everybody. Quiet, please. It is my great pleasure as official purveyor to Avonlea of the Rollings Reliable Baking Powder Company to read this, the following tribute. [reading letter] "Miss Anne Shirley, Green Gables, P.E.I. Dear Madam: We have much pleasure in informing you that your charming story Averil's Atonement has won the $100 grand prize in our recent competition for the best story introducing the name of our revered product. The prize will be presented by Mr. Charles Lawson of Lawson's General, Avonlea. We have arranged for publication of the story in several prominent newspapers across the country and will supply it in pamphlet form for distribution among our patrons. Thanking you for the interest you have shown in supporting our enterprises, we remain yours very truly, The Rollings Reliable Baking Powder Company."

ALICE LAWSON: You'll sign mine, won't you? Here. Oh! And I'm sure Miss Shirley will be happy to sign everybody's brochure. And don't forget your purchase of this remarkable product.

DIANA: [entering]Anne! Anne! Oh, I'm wild with delight! I was sure I would win when I sent it into the competition.

ANNE: Diana Barry!

DIANA: Yes, I did. I thought of your story in a minute when I saw the ad in the paper.

MAN: Miss Shirley, will you sign this for my daughter?

DIANA: Well, I was going to tell you to send it in yourself, but I figured you had so little faith left in you, you wouldn't. So, I sent my copy. Then, if you hadn't won, you would never have known because the stories that failed weren't being sent back. Why, Anne, you don't seem a bit pleased.

ANNE: Of course, I couldn't be anything but pleased. It was the gesture of a true friend to try and boost my spirits. But there isn't a word about baking powder.

DIANA: Oh, I put that in. It was as easy as a wink. You know the scene where Averil makes the cake? Well, I just stated that she used Rollings Reliable and that's why it turned out so well. See. And then here, in the last paragraph where Percival clasps Averil in his arms and says, "Sweetheart, the beautiful coming years will bring us the fulfillment of our house of dreams." I added, "in which we will never use any baking powder except Rollings Reliable."

ANNE: Oh.

DIANA: Come on. I have the buggy. I'll take you home. You won $100! Prissy Grant told me that Canadian Women only pays $5 a story.

ANNE: I can't take it. It's rightfully yours, Diana. You sent the story in and made the alterations. I certainly wouldn't have sent it in. So, you have to take it.

DIANA: I'd like to see myself! It wasn't any trouble, Anne. The honor of being the best friend of the prize winner is enough for me. I'm so glad for your sake.

ANNE: I think you're the sweetest and truest friend in the world, Diana. I will by your wedding gift with this.

DIANA: Don't you dare spend it all on me.

ANNE: I got a letter today from our dear old teacher, Miss Stacey. She is head of the King's County Board of Education in New Brunswick.

DIANA: What a promotion.

ANNE: And apparently there's a position she's recommended me for, at a ladies' college in Kingsport.

DIANA: How flattering. You wouldn't actually leave, would you?

ANNE: No, but I ought to apply anyway She's gone to all this trouble, and I wouldn't-- [cow moos] STOP, DIANA!

DIANA: Anne! You'll ruin your dress in that muddy field! Ruin it! She'll never get that cow all by herself. Come back! Stop! Anne Shirley, you are being ridiculous! Get out of the field this minute!

ANNE: I don't care about my dress! I must get the cow out before Rachel Lynde sees her! Alright, Diana, run! Corner her! That's it, Diana! Now, don't frighten her. This is what we've got to do: Maybe if we can get a hold of her we can force her over the fence into our field. Look, you fill the gap. And I'm going to make a run for it, straight toward her. With any luck she'll jump the fence.

DIANA: You don't mean you're actually going to walk through that mulch, do you?

ANNE: It's the lesser of the two evils, Diana. Or she'll get into Rachel's cabbage patch again.

DIANA: Alright! I have the gap blocked.

ANNE: Here, Dolly. Good girl. Shoo! Come on! You wretched cow! Don't even think about Rachel's cabbages. [she falls, Diana screams]

DIANA: Oh, Anne. Your stupid cow. [she falls]

ANNE: Sorry.

GILBERT: Well, the elegant and illustrious Miss Shirley. Relaxed while seeking out ideas for her next Rollings Reliable writing assignment, I presume.

ANNE: Well, do you suppose I'm here to chat with the bullfrogs? Be a gentleman.

GILBERT: You'd've been better off selling her last month when dad offered to buy her.

ANNE: Well, I'll sell Dolly to him right now, if he wants her. [Mr. Blythe laughs] You may have our darn jersey anytime you want to, Mr. Blythe. Well, this very minute, for that matter.

MR. BLYTHE: Done! I'll give you the $20 I offered before. Gil can drive her over to Carmody right now and she'll go to town with the rest of the shipments this evening. I promised Mr. Reed of Brighton a jersey. [he laughs]

DIANA: What will Marilla say?

ANNE: She won't care. Dolly was my cow, anyway. It's not likely she'll bring more than $20 at the auction. But when Rachel sees this field, she'll know Dolly was loose.

GILBERT: Anne, I'll be over this afternoon with your $20.

ANNE: Well, it's taught me a lesson: not to stake my word of honor on cows. [Mr. Blythe laughs]

ANNE: How do you think a mother would feel if she found her child tattooed all over with a baking powder advertisement? I love my story, and I wrote it out of the best that was in me.

GILBERT: Oh, you're just tired. Besides, why should you care? $100 is more than you make in two month's teaching anyway.

ANNE: Josie Pye and Tillie Boulter can't wait to pounce on it.

GILBERT: Oh, they're spiteful old cats. You're just the first person in pokey old Avonlea to try anything like that. All pioneers are considered to be afflicted with moonstruck madness.

ANNE: Mad to think I could write anything better than a baking powder advertisement. This has dampened any spark of ambition. I shall never write another story again.

GILBERT: Oh, I wouldn't give up all together. Maybe if you just let your characters speak everyday English, instead of all that highfalutin mumbo-jumbo.

ANNE: You think my story's full of faults, too, don't you?

GILBERT: "Wilt thou give up thy garter, oh fairest of the fair"? Anne, nobody speaks that way. And look at that sap Percival who sits around mooning the entire time. He never lets a girl get a word in edgewise. In real life she'd have pitched him.

ANNE: His poetry would win any girl's heart.

GILBERT: Well, if you want my opinion, Miss Shirley, I'd write about places I knew something of and people that spoke everyday English. Instead of these silly schoolgirl romances.

ANNE: I don't share your opinion. [he whips her] I am not your horse, Mr. Blythe.

GILBERT: I'm just trying to give you a bit of friendly advice.

ANNE: Is that so?

GILBERT: Take the $100 and write a real story about the people you care about, right here in Avonlea.

ANNE: Well, you certainly wouldn't be one of them. Pitching and mooning? You know, you're about as intellectual as Charlie and Moody and Fred and all the rest of the boys who can only think of finding some silly girl to marry and keep a house for them.

GILBERT: Well you can cry and feel sorry for yourself all you want, but it won't help you write a better novel. Will you still come with me to Fred's clambake next Tuesday? [she shakes her head no] Listen, Anne, I'm sorry. Will you let me walk you back? I was just trying to be helpful. You know you get my back up sometimes. Listen, I'm sorry. What else can I do?

ANNE: Let me get a word in edgewise once in a while before I pitch you! [she hits him with her basket and storms away]

MR. BLYTHE: Good day, Marilla.

MARILLA: John Blythe, we haven't seen you around these parts much, lately.

MR. BLYTHE: Well, I haven't much time for social calls now-a-days. The old place still looks as pretty, though.

MARILLA: The old buildings are getting worn down, but people in Avonlea still say that it's the loveliest old spot on the North Shore.

MR. BLYTHE: It is that. Some things never change, even in 30 years. I'm looking for my boy.

MARILLA: Yes, Anne and he are walking by the pond. Maybe, would you like to sit a while until they come back?

MR. BLYTHE: Thanks, but we're taking a shipment in to Charlottetown before dark. I best go and find them.

[Anne arrives, fuming]

GILBERT: Anne! What about your $20 for the cow?

MR. BLYTHE: The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it? Good day, Marilla.

MARILLA: There, there. You take things too much to heart, Anne Shirley.

ANNE: Oh, Marilla. It's been such a Jonah day: Rollings Reliable, Dolly, Gilbert.

MARILLA: Now, now. Jonah days come to everybody. God knows best. You used to say, "Tomorrow is always fresh with no mistakes." Do you remember? Oh, what a girl you were for making mistakes in them days. Hmm? I used to think you were possessed. Mind the time you dyed your hair. Oh, Lord.

ANNE: Oh, what a worry my red hair used to be. I'm afraid I've never been able to endure personal criticism very well. Gilbert gave his honest opinion about my story this afternoon. Oh, my temper always gets the better of me! I whipped him as hard as I could.

MARILLA: I'm glad to hear it. The Blythes have always been far too opinionated for their own good.

ANNE: No, Marilla. He was right. And I've made a terrible idiot of myself. You don't know how spiteful I was.

MARILLA: I can imagine.

ANNE: Our friendship, it won't ever be the same now. Why can't he just be sensible instead of acting like a sentimental schoolboy?

MARILLA: Because he loves you.

ANNE: He loves me? I can't know why.

MARILLA: Because you made Josie Pye and Ruby Gillis and all of those wishy-washy young ladies who waltzed by him look like spineless nothings.

ANNE: Marilla, he's hardly my idea of a romantic suitor.

MARILLA: Anne, you have tricked something out of that imagination of yours that you call romance. Have you forgotten how he gave up the Avonlea school for you so that you could stay here with me? He picked you up everyday in his carriage so that you could study your courses together. Don't toss it away for some ridiculous ideal that doesn't exist. Hmm? Now, you come downstairs and see if a good cup of tea and some of those plum puffs I made today don't hearten you.

ANNE: Plum puffs won't minister to a mind diseased in a world that's crumbled into pieces.

MARILLA: Well, I'm glad to see that your dented spirits haven't injured your tongue.

MARILLA: I suppose it's just as well you sold the darn cow. Though you do do things in a dreadful head longed fashion. I only pray Rachel doesn't burst a blood vessel when she sees her potato fields today.

ANNE: I've decided to write Miss Stacey and ask her for more particulars on this ladies' college.

MARILLA: I think that's a wise idea, Anne. Go out and find me a couple of eggs, will you?

ANNE: I don't know how in heaven's name Dolly got out of that pen. She must have just broken some of the boards.

ANNE: [sees Dolly] No! MARILLA! Dolly's here!

MARILLA: Anne? What in heaven's name is the matter with you?

ANNE: What will I do? Oh, this is terrible. It's all my fault. I must learn to reflect a little before I go charging ahead recklessly!

MARILLA: Anne Shirley, you are the most exasperating girl. What is it that you've done?

ANNE: I've sold Rachel Lynde's jersey cow, the one they bought in Carmody last spring, to Mr. Blythe. And Dolly is here this very minute in the milking pen!

MARILLA: Anne, are you dreaming?

ANNE: No, I only wish I were. There's no dream about it. It's very much like a nightmare.

MARILLA: That is Dolly.

ANNE: Rachel Lynde's cow is in Charlottetown by now. Marilla, I thought I was finished getting into scrapes, and here I am in the very worst one I was in in my entire life. What can I do?

MARILLA: Do? There's nothing to do but to go to go and tell Rachel the truth. You just going to have to learn to settle down and pay head to things.

ANNE: I've humiliated myself into the very dust. Perhaps she'll accept a plate of plum puffs as a peace offering.

[upon seeing Anne approach, Rachel runs inside the house]

ANNE: Oh, no. If she's that cross, what will she be when I say what I've done?

MARILLA: If she gives you the chance to say anything at all.

MARILLA: Afternoon, Thomas.

THOMAS LYNDE: Afternoon, Marilla

MARILLA: Afternoon, Rachel.

RACHEL: Marilla, Anne. I'm glad you've come. I certainly had no intention of visiting you people after being flown at as I was on my last visit.

MARILLA: Well, it would appear that some kind of cuffuffle has come out of this. Anne would like to--

RACHEL: Please, Marilla. I'm not finished yet. On reflection I realized that I was partly to blame. I had no right to be so ill-tempered with you. And I'm not one of them who can never be brought to own up to their mistakes. I'd like to apologize to you, Anne Shirley, and I wonder if you'd sign my copy of your Averil's Atonement. The money they pay for such lies is perfectly amazing, but I read it to my Thomas and we were both moved. I'm much obliged to you as it's the only entertainment he's had in the past six months.

THOMAS LYNDE: I laughed so hard I'm not sure it wasn't good for my heart.

ANNE: I'm so pleased.

RACHEL: Come and lay off your things. You'll stay to tea, won't you?

MARILLA: Thank you, Rachel.

RACHEL: It's nothing short of a wonder how you've improved, Anne, in looks and talent. I'm not overly partial to the pale, wide-eyed style, myself; I prefer more snap and color. But you do make them other Avonlea girls with showy good looks seem kind of overdone. Like my June lilies alongside them big red peonies, that's what. Here's your tea, Thomas.

THOMAS LYNDE: I don't want tea.

RACHEL: Now, now, Thomas. You just finish you nap here and get some fresh air.

ANNE: I really-- I wanted to confess something to you, Mrs. Lynde. It's about the jersey cow.

RACHEL: I saw my trampled potato fields this morning. Never mind, Anne. It makes no difference now.

ANNE: If only it were that, Mrs. Lynde. But it's ten times worse.

RACHEL: Well, you're never safe from surprise till you're dead. Don't tell me she's done in the last of my cabbages, too.

ANNE: It's not the cabbages, Mrs. Lynde, and I'll tell you everything. Just please don't interrupt. It's making me nervous.

THOMAS LYNDE: Rachel!

RACHEL: Thomas, you're supposed to be snoozing!

ANNE: See, Diana and I chased a certain jersey cow out of your potato field, yesterday. Well, you can't imagine what a difficult time we had. I was so dreadfully tired and wet and cross after it all. Well, I sold the cow on the spot to the Blythes for $20.

RACHEL: I hope you're not vexed with her, Marilla. She should have consulted you first. So long as my cabbages are safe, we'll just pretend it didn't happen.

ANNE: See, this morning, I found my Dolly still shut up in our milking pen.

MARILLA: It was your cow that Anne sold to John Blythe, Rachel.

ANNE: And it was shipped out right away on the afternoon train by Mr. Blythe.

MARILLA: You will find our jersey is as good as yours. Or perhaps you'd prefer the $20.

RACHEL: Marilla Cuthbert! We paid more than $50 for our cow, and I have no intention of accepting that varmint of yours in exchange.

MARILLA: You have admitted you are partially to blame for all of this!

RACHEL: Anne Shirley, you are too heedless and impulsive. You just go on and do whatever comes into your head, that's what. Well, in this world you pay for your mistakes and you can certainly afford to pay now!

MARILLA: Well, you have certainly made a fine exhibition of yourself, Rachel. Falling all over this girl because she's a success. It's plain to see now what your true colors are.

THOMAS LYNDE: Rachel!

RACHEL: I'm coming Thomas! Oh, that man. If he'd just brave up and exert his willpower a little, he'd get better in no time.

MARILLA: It's a wonder to me that he dared to get sick at all without asking her permission. Come along, Anne. We'll pay her her $50.

RACHEL: Thomas! Thomas! Dear God, please don't take him.

THOMAS LYNDE: [says something indistinguishable]

RACHEL: What is it, Thomas?

MARILLA: Where's his medicine, Rachel?

RACHEL: It's in the cupboard. [to Thomas] What is it, Thomas?

ANNE: Is this it?

RACHEL: Yes.

THOMAS LYNDE: Rachel.

RACHEL: Yes, Thomas? What is it?

THOMAS LYNDE: I...

RACHEL: What is it? I can't hear you. What is it? Oh, Thomas!

MARILLA: Rachel, I'm afraid there's nothing we can do.