"You must be a vegetarian," smiled Mr. Black.
"N-no," denied Mabel. "Only a potatorian."
"Mabel!" objected Marjory. "There isn't any such word."
"Yes, there is," returned Mabel, calmly. "I just made it."
"Well, I'm sure," sighed Mrs. Crane, "I never expected to have any such birthday as this."
"You see," said Mr. Black, giving his sister's plump elbow a kindly squeeze, "this is a good many birthdays rolled into one."
"It seems hard," mourned Mabel, who was earnestly scanning the bill of fare, "to read about so many kinds of dessert when you've room enough left for only three. I wish I'd began saving space sooner."
"You're in luck," laughed Bettie. "A very small, thin one is all I can manage—pineapple ice, I guess."
"Anyway," said Marjory, "I shan't choose bread pudding. We have that every Tuesday and Friday at home. Aunty Jane has regular times for everything, so I always know just what's coming. I'm going to have something different—hot mince pie, I guess."