"You won't have to," assured Jean. "There's plenty of oatmeal and rice and a lot of things in packages. Oh, yes, and beans—a great big bag of dried ones."
"Wouldn't it be nice," suggested Bettie, "to surprise Mr. Black and Mrs. Crane with baked beans for supper!"
"But they'd see us cooking them," objected Jean.
"We could build a stone oven, the way Dave showed us, on the beach," said practical Bettie. "Of course, if we used the tin one here in the clearing, they'd see what we were doing. Marjory, you're so small they won't notice you, so you slip into the provision tent and get the beans. How many? Why—I don't know."
"Seven hundred," said Henrietta, promptly. "A hundred apiece—Anthony prefers fish-tails."
"I guess," protested Marjory, "I'm not going to count those beans—they come in pounds, not dozens."
"They swell a lot," said Bettie. "I think that about four cupfuls would be enough—bring them down in one of those round pudding pans—we'll bake 'em in that."
"It seems to me," said Jean, when Marjory had successfully captured the beans, "that we ought to wash them. But we haven't any colander—one of those things with holes in it."
"Never mind," said Henrietta, "we'll use the lake—it's big enough, anyway. I'll wade in with the beans——"
"I guess not," retorted Mabel. "Your feet and beans all in together!"