'All right,' cried Peggy, rushing off with enthusiasm to rouse Lilian from the piano and forage in the pantry for a supply of jam and butter.
Half an hour later an interesting procession started off from the kitchen door: Lilian first, with the basket of cups and provisions, Peggy with the milk-can, and Bobby armed with the kettle, while Rollo seemed to be everywhere at once, and as pleased as anybody.
'I've got the matches,' said Peggy, 'and a newspaper. You're sure you put in the spoons, Lilian? We forgot them last time.'
The place where the children were going was a delightful spot for a picnic. A rapid stream ran through the woods, dashing down over great boulders, making little cascades and waterfalls as it went, with here and there a deep, clear pool, where the trout lay snugly under the stones; the rocks under the overhanging trees were carpeted with the softest and greenest of moss, and tall ferns grew right down to the water's edge, mingling with trailing ivy and creeping moneywort. A grassy glade under a tall beech seemed intended by Nature for a summer-house, for there was a large flat stone in the middle, which served for a table, and a circle of little stones round, just high enough for seats, so that you might imagine Queen Mab and her fairies dined here on moonlight nights, with the squirrels for guests and the bats and owls for waiters.
The children put down their baskets, and ran about gathering dry sticks to build their fire. There were plenty of dead branches strewn about in the wood, so they soon had a goodly pile of fuel. Bobby filled the kettle at the stream, and planted it firmly on Lilian's elaborate erection of sticks. Peggy struck a match and set the paper alight; up went the smoke, and in a few moments the bonfire was blazing grandly. But unfortunately the picnic party had quite forgotten that burning wood does not make a very substantial foundation, for the whole pile suddenly collapsed, and over went the kettle, spilling all the water, and putting out the fire with a hiss.
'What a nuisance!' exclaimed Lilian. 'We must find something to hang the kettle on, like the gipsies do.'
'Suppose we make a kind of fireplace between two big stones, and then we can put a thick branch across,' suggested Peggy. 'It will be easier to lift the kettle off, too. I don't know how we should have seized it from the middle of that blaze.'
The second attempt proved a much greater success, and in a short time the water was boiling bravely, while a very attractive feast was spread out upon the mossy table.
Lilian had filled the teapot, and the company was just about to sit down and fall to with much relish, when the party was suddenly augmented by an unexpected guest. Down the little path from the glen above solemnly marched a very small girl indeed, so round and fat and chubby that she looked nearly as broad as she was long. She was a pretty child, with soft, dark eyes and pink cheeks, so plump and full that the little nose seemed almost to be lost between them. A pair of stout brown legs showed under the smocked holland pinafore, her white sun-hat hung upon her back, and she clasped a dilapidated doll in her arms.
She strolled up to the astonished children with the dignity of a duchess.