“Oh, so it is,” cried Millicent, “and the snow has all melted.”
“I think it’s down underneath,” Nan went on hopefully.
“Of course it must be,” replied teasing Millicent. “Get the snow-shovel; perhaps we can dig it up.”
However, the dessert was all eaten, for a snow pudding tastes good even when its shape is not all that could be desired.
“What, something else?” cried Millicent, as Rosie appeared with a pile of fresh plates. “You astonish me! Girls, you really oughtn’t to overfeed us in this mad fashion. A watermelon, as I live!”
The great green melon was hailed with delight by all, and, except that it was a bit warmish from having traveled about in the sun all day, it was pronounced extremely satisfactory. Coffee followed, and Betty remarked that that made up in quality and quantity for what the other courses had lacked in both.
“Some of the things didn’t turn out quite right,” admitted Marguerite, “but you had quite enough of them. You can’t expect the lavishness of a Nero on five dollars a week.”
“Let’s go in the Grotto and write in the ‘Whitecap,’ ” said Helen, who always interposed when Betty and Marguerite began a discussion.
So into the Grotto they went, and while Helen picked at her banjo, and Nan and Jessie sang, the others made up rhymes for their book.
After some struggles, in which Marguerite joined with as much good will as the others, they produced this masterpiece, which they read aloud to the musicians, who applauded most heartily: