Especially for a child. While the Harlem sun shone above a perfectly cloudless sky, inside the Church of the Redeemer there were lovely pink and blue flowers on display everywhere. There were bunches of them up on the pulpit and at the front of each pew, and a batch in the shape of a cross had been placed over the bottom half of the open casket that held the body of the pregnant young girl whose short life was being celebrated and whose tragic death was being mourned. The mood inside the church was sad and grim. The organ player banged soulfully on his keys, and the church was packed with so many grieving mourners that they were spilling out of the door. Almost the entire community of Harlem had turned out to show their respect for poor little Princess Howell and her unborn baby. Neighbors and friends had passed around a basket to collect money to purchase her a burial plot, and the small business owners in the community, especially those who were members of the Talented Ten, had dipped into their pockets to buy her a beautiful casket and pay for all of her funeral expenses too.
