A howl of glee greeted this suggestion, for Still Pond in the house was usually a forbidden game.
As you probably know, it is like Blindman's Buff, only the ones who are not blinded may not move.
Marjorie was "It" first, and after being carefully blindfolded by her father, she stood still in the middle of the floor and counted ten very slowly. While she did this, the others placed themselves behind tables or chairs, or wherever they felt safe from the blindfolded pursuer.
"Ten!" cried Marjorie, at last. "Still Pond! No moving!"
This was a signal for perfect quiet; any one moving after that had to be "It" in turn.
No sound was heard, so Marjorie felt her way cautiously about until she should catch some one. It was hard for the others not to laugh as she narrowly escaped touching Kingdon's head above the back of the sofa, and almost caught Kitty's foot as it swung from a table. But at last she caught her father, who was on the floor covered up with an afghan, and so Mr. Maynard was "It" in his turn.
It was a rollicking game, and a very exciting one, and, as often was the case, it soon merged into Blindman's Buff. This was even more romping and noisy, and soon the picnic sounded like Pandemonium let loose.
"Good!" cried Mr. Maynard, as he looked at the red, laughing faces, and moist, tumbled curls. "You look just like a lot of healthy, happy boys and girls should look, but that's enough of that. Now, we'll sit down in a circle, and play quiet games."
Again the group occupied the logs and stones, ottomans and sofa cushions if they preferred, and they played guessing games selected by each in turn.
When it was Mr. Maynard's turn, he said he would teach them the game of the Popular Picnic. He began by telling them they must each in turn repeat what he himself should say.