A solemn pause, and then in a deeper voice, “Now let the brass ring pass between you.”
A curtain ring, wound with white ribbon, was pushed up Bunny Grey’s front leg as far as it would go, and then Eunice said, in the deepest voice of all: “I now pronounce you rabbit and wife, and let no dog, mouse, weasel, cat, or guinea-pig ever say it’s not so! Now we will have supper.”
And the whole company filed out to the woodshed, where an ample repast was set for rabbit and cat. The menu included oatmeal in an ear-of-corn mould, with clover sauce; catnip fritters, with cream; stewed potatoes; and a wedding cake with “B. G. and S.” in red letters on the frosting.
The animals were held up to the table with napkins around their necks, and ate their share of the feast, while their owners ate the cake. Then the bride and groom took a wedding trip around the block, drawn in their white chariot, and, contrary to custom again, escorted by all the guests.
“Now we must sit for our picture,” Eunice said, as Franklin brought out his camera, and those of the guests who had gone to sleep during the wedding tour were shaken awake again. But it was dreadfully hard to pose them all, so that their clothes and whiskers showed properly, and just at the last minute the picture was spoiled by Grandmother Richmond, who had a fit, and ran up the screen door. There were a few other legs and tails in the picture when it was developed, but it was mostly Grandmother’s cap and fit; and it seemed such a pity, because all the other animals had such pleasant expressions, and looked so charming in the clothes they wore.
Everybody stayed to supper, and the sliced peaches gave out; but they ended up with canned ones, and nobody seemed to mind.
“It was the nicest party I was ever to,” Myrtie Foster told Mrs. Wood when she went home; “and I shall tell Malvina what an awful lot she missed! Our mamma doesn’t have time to make parties for us. She has to tend store.”
“It was lovely to have you,” said Eunice, warmly; “only I’m sorry Weejums was so rude. She mort’fied me very much.”
“Don’t you mind the least bit,” said Myrtie, consolingly. “I’ve heard that somebody always cries at a wedding!”
