“It isn’t so bad when you do it together,” said Beverly, sitting up. “We have jolly times in the out-door pantry.”
The woods were ringing with laughter and shouts. Evidently the Twins were already up and doing, and Doughboy was helping them. A clear tenor was singing “There’s a long, long trail,” to the accompaniment of a wood-chopper’s axe. It was part of the boys’ job to see that the wood-boxes were kept full and the fires laid, and they usually elected to do most of such chores before breakfast.
Anne had just time to get into the brown middy costume like those the other girls wore, which Tante had asked her to bring. She had never put on anything like it before, and she hated the material and color. But really she looked very nice in the woodsy brown, with her fair skin and bobbed hair.
“You look more like a Dryad than any of us,” said Nancy approvingly when Anne appeared for breakfast. And though Anne wasn’t quite sure what a Dryad was, she thought by Nancy’s tone that it must be a nice sort of creature, and was pleased.
“It is queer how this brown makes you feel like a part of the woods; doesn’t it?” she said.
“Now you are a Round Robin!” said Tante, greeting her with a smile.
Breakfast was served on the veranda this beautiful morning, instead of in the living room where they had supped. The long board on trestles, such as the pioneers used, was set with plates and cups of granite ware; twelve places, the sacred number. Tante poured the steaming chocolate, which Gilda had made, at one end of the table. And this morning it was the turn of Norma to serve at the other end. Such delicious Belgian chocolate! Such eggs and rice in Italian style as Norma had prepared! Up and down went the plates from hand to hand, like an endless chain. For everybody was hungry as a bear. Doughboy sat at a distance whining gently. He was learning good puppy manners, the chief of which is patience. But Patsy had disappeared like a white flash as soon as Tante had let him out, to get his own breakfast of field-mice. Anne thought she had never tasted a better breakfast.
“Now come on, dish-washers!” With much ceremony an apron and clean dish towels were handed to Anne, and a dish mop to Beverly; and presently, with no very good grace on her part, the Golden Girl was initiated into the mysteries of a new job. Lucky it was that the dishes were non-breakable! But Beverly chattered while the process was going on, and the open-air pantry was a merry place.
“How do you like it so far as you have gone, Anne?” asked Nancy, spoon in hand, poking her head out of the kitchen door.
“It seems queer to me,” said Anne, remembering to be sulky. “I can’t get used to there being no servants.”