“It’s so much better fun than just having an ordinary party,” Rosa remarked, as she and Nancy folded the paper napkins, “because in doing this we are doing something worth while, and just a party is—only a party,” she deduced in her own naive way.
“Yes,” added Nancy, “this is more than a party; it’s a picnic. And isn’t Margot lovely about it?”
“She’s going to have the best fun of any of us, for Margot loves children, especially strange children,” Rosa said, slyly.
“If only we could get Orilla to come,” Nancy continued, “but her mother was away all night and when she reached home this morning Orilla had gone out. I didn’t have a chance to tell you that, Rosa,” said her cousin. “You were so busy with the baker boy when I got back.”
“Oh, I knew you wouldn’t locate Orilla. It takes more than a little hunting to do that. She flits around like a squirrel,” replied Rosa. “But I’m not worrying about her. We have enough on our own hands now,” and she proceeded to count and classify the paper plates.
“But she promised to come and she did seem so dreadfully upset last night,” Nancy insisted upon saying. “I’m glad our party will be over early this afternoon. Directly after they leave we must go tell Orilla about the room. I can hardly wait, can you?”
“That was a great idea of yours, Nancy, and so simple. If we had waited to ask Betty and Dad as I thought of doing it would have been ages before we got our answer. But you asked Margot—”
“Margot is in charge here. There always has to be someone in charge of every place.”
“So simple when you think; but I don’t always think,” laughed Rosa. “Won’t Orilla be tickled? And why on earth shouldn’t she use that old room since it means so much to her?”
“If you’ll behave, Rosa,” Nancy ventured. “You are not like Orilla, you know; you have everything.”