Marcus Aurelius, the parrot, talked, and the canaries sang as if this were the last opportunity any of them ever expected to have; while the embroidered butterflies and stuffed birds fluttered and swayed and danced on the quivering tree-twigs beneath them almost as if they were alive.
The table-cloth was spread on the floor, in real picnic fashion, for the boys would allow neither tables nor chairs, and the lunch was simply delectable. Mrs. Win-ship, Mrs. Brayton, and Mrs. Pennell, with affectionate forethought, had brought everything that schoolgirls and boys particularly affect—jelly-cake, tarts, and hosts of other goodies. How the girls remembered their closetful of “attempts” at home; how they roguishly exchanged glances, yet never disclosed their failures; how they discoursed learnedly on baking-powder versus saleratus, raw potato versus boiled potato yeast; and with what dignity and assurance they discussed questions of household economy, and interlarded their conversation with quotations from the “Young Housekeeper's Friend,” and the “Bride's Manual.”
In the afternoon they played all sorts of games,—some quiet, more not at all so,—until at five o'clock, nearly dark in these short days, they left their make-believe forest and trudged home through the snow, baskets under their arms, declaring it a mistaken idea that picnics should be confined to summer.
“What a gl-orious time we've had!” exclaimed Jo, as they busied themselves about the home dining-room. “Yesterday seems like a horrible nightmare, or, at least, it would if it hadn't happened in the daytime, and if we hadn't the pantry to remind us of the truth. The things we carried were not so v-e-r-y bad, after all! I was really proud of the buns, and Patty's doughnuts were as 'swelled up' as Mrs. Drayton's.”
“And a great deal yellower and spotted-er,” quoth Edith, in a sly aside.
“Well,” admitted Patty, ruefully, “there certainly was quite enough saleratus in them; but I think it very unbecoming in the maker of the bride's-cake to say anything about other people's mistakes! Bride's cake, indeed!” she finished with a scornful smile.
“True!” said Edith, much crushed by this heartless allusion to what had been the most thorough and expensive failure of the day; “I can't deny it. Proceed with your sarcasm.”
“This house 'looks as if it was going to ride out'! as Miss Miranda says,” exclaimed Alice. “Do let us try to straighten it before Sunday! The closets are all in snarls, the kitchen's in a mess, and the less said about the back bedroom the better.”
Accordingly, inspired by Alice's enthusiasm, they began to work and to improve the hours like a whole hiveful of busy bees. They put on big aprons and washed pans and pots that had been evaded for two days, made fish-balls for breakfast, dusted, scrubbed, washed, mended, darned, and otherwise reduced the house to that especial and delicious kind of order which is likened unto apple-pie. And thus one week of the joys and trials of this merry half-a-dozen housekeepers was over and gone.