“I move, Madam President,” said Isabel, very formally, “that we elect the guests who are coming tonight.”
“I second the motion.”
Cathalina put the motion and it was carried, the girls mentioning the names of Olivia, Virginia, and Evelyn Calvert. “Go for them, girls,” said Cathalina, “and spread the feast. Won’t it be fun?”
“Hurry up, Hilary, and get the cake out in the middle of the table. Where are the candles?”
“In it, Betty. Isn’t it a beauty? Virginia’s name in red cinnamon drops just like the kiddies at camp!” The sandwiches were set out, the ice fixed in the lemonade, and by that time the guests were heard coming down the hall and excited voices drew nearer.
“Who do you suppose is here?” cried Isabel, leading the way, and ushering in Diane Percy, while the other guests, all smiles, waited in the doorway.
“Diane!”
“Diane!”
“The other sweet P!”
“Why, Diane! You never told me you were coming!” cried Helen Paget. “My darling ‘Imp’!”