It was growing dark, but the bushes and trees nearby were strung with lanterns borrowed from the two boats. The feast was almost over when Madge whispered something in Tom's ear and Phil nodded emphatically.
Tom slipped away, to return bearing the big box which he had carried so tenderly up from the houseboat.
Between them Madge and Phil lifted out a mammoth wedding cake and placed it, with a flourish, in the center of the feast. "You wouldn't have a wedding supper at Mrs. Preston's, Miss Betsey—Mrs. Randolph, I mean," announced Madge, "so we have made you have it here." Madge handed her a knife, saying, "You must cut your own wedding cake."
"I can't cut it," protested Mrs. Randolph; "it is too lovely." On top of the cake was an exquisite frosted ship, made to represent the houseboat. Six tiny dolls danced about it, Phil, Lillian, Eleanor, Madge, Miss Jenny Ann and Miss Betsey! On it was written in icing: "Good luck to the Bride."
It was too dark to see the bride's radiant old face as she cut into her wedding cake, but her hand trembled.
A minute later Eleanor gave a little cry of surprise. In biting her cake she had come across a small gold ring.
"Eleanor will be married first, but I shall be the richest," announced Lillian, as she held up a bright silver dime. "Who will be the old maid?"
Nobody spoke, but Madge produced a small, bent thimble. "I am going to be the old maid, of course. Haven't I always said so?" she inquired.
"Not if I know it!" whispered Tom into Madge's unheeding ears.
"Come on, children, to the boats," ordered Miss Jenny Ann, a little later. "Night has come on. We must say good-bye. We won't have any farewells, even in the morning. They are too dismal. But pleasant dreams on the houseboat and the motor launch. And may we meet again!"