"Why can't we go to the wedding with him? We are very good at weddings."
"Not this time, dear. We weren't invited. It is just a quiet wedding on the rush—they start east this afternoon, you know."
"I don't believe in weddings on the rush—they ought to take their time and have old shoes and rice and refreshments," insisted Zee stubbornly.
"What shall we do then, Doris? You ought to think of something."
Doris racked her brain. She had to rack her brain every Sunday afternoon, but somehow she could not keep a supply of ideas in storage.
"Why don't you go to the meadow and pick some goldenrod?" she suggested finally. "Bud is coming to tea with Rosalie, and think how it will please her."
Treasure and Zee looked at each other, and as neither could think of a plausible objection, they acted upon the plan.
When they were gone, Doris got up, luxuriously, and lifted her arms high above her head.
"Oh, day of rest," she breathed fervently, and wandered comfortably through the house and into the yard. Sunday was a blissful day, after all.