At half past eleven the lettuce salad was made, the golden circles of the pies were heaped with whipped cream, and everything was sizzling and bubbling that ought to sizzle and bubble.
“We’d better go and dress now,” said Anne, “for they may be here by twelve. We must have dinner at sharp one, for the soup must be served as soon as it’s done.”
Serious indeed were the toilet rites presently performed in the east gable. Anne peered anxiously at her nose and rejoiced to see that its freckles were not at all prominent, thanks either to the lemon juice or to the unusual flush on her cheeks. When they were ready they looked quite as sweet and trim and girlish as ever did any of “Mrs. Morgan’s heroines.”
“I do hope I’ll be able to say something once in a while, and not sit like a mute,” said Diana anxiously. “All Mrs. Morgan’s heroines converse so beautifully. But I’m afraid I’ll be tongue-tied and stupid. And I’ll be sure to say ‘I seen.’ I haven’t often said it since Miss Stacy taught here; but in moments of excitement it’s sure to pop out. Anne, if I were to say ‘I seen’ before Mrs. Morgan I’d die of mortification. And it would be almost as bad to have nothing to say.”
“I’m nervous about a good many things,” said Anne, “but I don’t think there is much fear that I won’t be able to talk.”
And, to do her justice, there wasn’t.
Anne shrouded her muslin glories in a big apron and went down to concoct her soup. Marilla had dressed herself and the twins, and looked more excited than she had ever been known to look before. At half past twelve the Allans and Miss Stacy came. Everything was going well but Anne was beginning to feel nervous. It was surely time for Priscilla and Mrs. Morgan to arrive. She made frequent trips to the gate and looked as anxiously down the lane as ever her namesake in the Bluebeard story peered from the tower casement.
“Suppose they don’t come at all?” she said piteously.
“Don’t suppose it. It would be too mean,” said Diana, who, however, was beginning to have uncomfortable misgivings on the subject.
“Anne,” said Marilla, coming out from the parlor, “Miss Stacy wants to see Miss Barry’s willowware platter.”