“I’m ’most as hungry as those children looked,” put in Florence. “Let’s get supper.”
Jo Ann sprang up. “I’m a swell fire-builder. I’ll build the fire this minute—in the outdoor fireplace.”
“No, you won’t. I’ve beat you to it,” laughed Peggy.
As they went through the house, Jo Ann noticed that a gay red-and-white checked cloth had been spread on the table and places set for four. “You have been busy, haven’t you?” she said motioning toward the table.
“Sure. Mrs. Blackwell told me what to do with things, and I’ve straightened up the kitchen and put some rice on to cook for supper.”
Just as they reached the kitchen door, Florence came up and slipped her arm around Peggy affectionately, “Peg, you’re a grand person to have around; Jo’s been dreading straightening this kitchen all the way home.” She smiled over at Jo Ann, then went on to the kitchen and took several articles out of a box near the door. “Here, Jo, if you’ll fry the bacon and scramble some eggs, I’ll make some real Mexican chocolate; then if you’ll open this jar of preserves, Peg, we’ll have supper ready in a jiffy.”
“Even that won’t be soon enough to suit me,” laughed Jo Ann. “That climb up the mountain and this invigorating air have made me hungry as a bear.”
In a very short time supper was ready, and as Jo Ann placed the platter of bacon and eggs on the table, she called over to Peggy, “Catch hold of the other end of this table and let’s carry it outside. That sunset’s just too gorgeous to miss, and then Mrs. Blackwell won’t have to walk so far, either.”
Carefully Peggy and Jo Ann carried the table out in front of the house and set it down near Mrs. Blackwell’s cot; then Florence brought a chair and placed it at the head of the table.
“The banquet is served, Your Majesty.” She turned to help her mother into the chair.