The band played stirring marches and gavottes. Laughter and merriment were everywhere. All stiffness among the guests seemed to have disappeared, for there were games of archery, lawn ten-pins, quoits and various other devices for the amusement of those assembled. Some of the girls had their fortunes told in the tent of a gypsy, while others watched a big paper balloon that was being sent up.
It was nearly seven o’clock when Marion gathered her guests in the banquet tent, and nearly all had found their places and were seated when in rushed Sue Daring, her white gown streaming all down the front with a sticky pink compound, and gasping with horror and despair she flew to her sister Phœbe, who stared in amazement.
“Keep off, Sue—keep off! Good gracious, what has happened to you?” Phœbe asked.
“I w-w-was helping myself to some l-l-l-lemonade, when the b-bowl tipped over an’ ducked me,” was the wailing reply, while Phœbe held her sister at arms’ length to protect her own dress.
There was a shout of laughter, at this, and poor Sue broke down and began to cry.
“I’ll take her home,” whispered Phœbe to Marion.
“Come straight back, then,” pleaded the hostess; “and have Sue come, too, as soon as she has changed her gown. There has been no harm done, except to the poor thing’s own clothing.”
“Yes, there has,” sobbed Sue. “I b-b-broke the bowl!”
Phœbe led her away, and soon Judith was exclaiming at the child’s dreadful plight. It was useless to think of her rejoining the party, however, for there was not another dress in her limited wardrobe that was proper for the occasion.
“Run back, dear,” said Cousin Judith to Phœbe; “your pleasure must not be spoiled, and I’ll look after Sue and comfort her.”