"Diana, you haven't taken a bite yet," commented Wendy.
"I'm not sure that I want any. I think I'll only have a biscuit, after all."
"Not want any? Not want the lovely sausages that I risked so much to get? Diana Hewlitt, what's the matter with you?"
"Oh, nothing—only——"
"Only nothing, I should say! Eat up that piece of sausage double quick, if you value my friendship."
"Suppose you eat it for me? That would be sentiment."
"No, it wouldn't; you must eat it yourself. There'll be a shindy if you don't. Our first feast! It's a sort of ceremonial!"
"Not 'the cup of brotherhood' but 'the sausage of sisterhood'!" hinnied Jess.
Diana looked doubtfully at the two inches of brown, porky substance on her ivy-leaf plate, and sighed.
"I feel like the elephant at the Zoo when they offered him his hundredth bun: It may kill me, but it's a beautiful death," she demurred. "Well, if you're all nuts on my having some, I guess there's nothing else for it. Here goes! What a life!"