Parsley Sage, Rosemary and Time

Ten-year-old Rosemary thinks the word cut into the marker stone in her aunt's old herb garden in Maine should be spelled T-H-Y-M-E until she tastes a sprig of it, and finds everything but herself ... stopped! Flies hang in mid-flight, a measuring worm in mid-reach. Not a leaf rustles. Before long Rosemary, a rather timid, proper child, is plunged into an extraordinary adventure-- in the eighteenth century! Who would have thought