"How are you going to serve the ice-cream?" asked Dick.
"Oh, we're all prepared!" cried Spud, and exhibited a "nest" of paper saucers and another of paper plates, and then a handful of tin spoons. "I thought these would answer better than the real thing, for when we have finished we won't have to wash anything—we can throw the whole mess away."
"Say, that's Spud," cried the student named Lane. "Once he had to wash dishes at a picnic we went to and you ought to see the face he cut."
"Come, git busy alretty!" cried Max, as he flourished a knife and commenced to cut one of the cakes. "Spud, chop the ice-cream up right avay!"
"All right, me for the chopping!" cried Spud cheerfully, and soon the cream was being passed around to the assembled students, and the cake and fruit followed.
"Fine!" cried Tom, as he smacked his lips over the feast. "Max, you have my full permission to have a birthday once a week."
"Yes, and when you miss a week let Spud take your place," added Sam.
"One thing I can't understand, Spud," said Dick, with great seriousness, and everybody present stopped eating to hear what the eldest Rover might have to say.
"What can't you understand?" asked Spud innocently.
"How you could get up a feast like this and forget to supply such an important thing."