“What a table!” exclaimed Tod Brown. “Oh, what a feast for the gods!”
“Make believe we’re little tin gods, and get us some of it,” suggested Bert, who was seated by Bernice. “I daren’t leave my seat. It might be snatched by a less worthy occupant. You do the foraging act, Tad,—and get some little helpers.”
There were waiters, but the “crowd” often thought it preferable to have some of their “own boys” secure viands for them.
So Tad and Clayton Rawlins and Lollie and Joe started, and soon returned with what Joe called “the pick of the lot.”
“What gorgeous foods!” cried Dolly. “And I’m starving with hunger.”
“So’m I,” declared Grace. “May I have a tiny sandwich?”
“A tiny sandwich doesn’t seem to match Grace Rawlins!” chaffed Joe. “Here’s a plateful, my girl!”
“None too many,” said Grace, good-naturedly. “Have some of mine, Bernice?”
Almost beside herself with joy at being really in the crowd, Bernice smiled and joked with the rest, and in their hearts most of them decided she “wasn’t half-bad after all.”
Celia Ferris was not so willing as the others to accept Bernice as one of them, and she stood a little aloof.