“I’ll do it. Where’s the opener-thing?”
“I don’t know. I guess there isn’t any over here—”
“I guess there is. Here it is, but it won’t work. You give it a pull, Dolly.”
Both girls, together and in turn, pulled at the refractory cork of the olive bottle,—for without olives, no school girl lunch is complete! But it refused to budge. Now, the ways of corks are most mischievous. Just as they were about to give it up, a last strong pull brought the cork out with a jerk, and the two D’s fell in a heap in the middle of the kitchenette, with such a clatter of accompanying dishes, that the guests came running out to see what was the matter.
They found their hostesses scrambling up from the floor, laughing, but pretty much upset withal.
“It was that old cork,” explained Dotty. “It wouldn’t come out, and then all of a sudden it couldn’t get out quick enough! ’Scuse us girls, for such a racketty performance, but truly, everything is going screw-wampus to-day!”
“Let us help,” begged Grace; “oh, do let us, please.”
“Yes, do help,” said Dolly, who was at the end of her rope. “You, Grace, see if everything is on the table that ought to be there. Ethel, please put some sugar in this bowl,—there’s the box,—and Celia, won’t you set these salad plates on the side table? Maisie May, you just stand around and look pretty,—I don’t know of anything else for you to do. Now, I’ll take up the soup, oh, no, I won’t. We must eat the fruit thingumbob first. Come on, let’s do that. I don’t see how people ever get the things ready at the right time. Everything here is either too ready or not enough so. Come on, friends. You sit here, Maisie, and Grace, here.”
Laughing gaily, the girls took their seats, and delightedly attacked the dainty first course. It was a combination of various fruits,—orange, pineapple and crimson cherries, served in delicate slender-stemmed glasses.
“I just love this fruit muddle,” said Maisie, “and this is the best ever! Who made it?”