"Plum pudding!" He pronounced the two words with the reverence due them.
Grace stared at him in amazement. "How did you know?" she stammered. "It's almost uncanny."
"Not at all," said Roy, with a superior air. "It's perfectly simple—I smelled it."
"Oh, so that was the blithe and savory odor that assailed our nostrils a short time ago," said Frank. "But my hopes never soared to the heights of plum pudding."
"And here is the hard sauce," said Mollie, passing it around from one to the other as though it had been a precious jewel. "Amy made it—all of powdered sugar—with perhaps a little egg and butter thrown in—and I know it is delicious."
"You had better put that out of sight till we get through eating other things, Mollie," Betty cautioned. "The boys will be starting at the wrong end of the meal."
"Yes, and spoil their appetites," Amy added, while Mollie removed the temptation.
However, from the way the good things disappeared, there seemed no reason for Amy's fears—appetites like those were proof even against plum pudding.
At last the picnickers stretched themselves, replete and happy, upon the soft grass, to discuss a further course of action.
"What shall we do next?" asked Betty, after a somewhat lengthy pause. "Are we going to take a walk or swim some more or just stay here?"