“P.S.—Nat must bring his fiddle, so we can dance, and all the boys must be good, or they cannot have any of the nice things we have cooked.”
This elegant invitation would, I fear, have been declined, but for the hint given in the last line of the postscript.
“They have been cooking lots of goodies, I smelt ’em. Let’s go,” said Tommy.
“We needn’t stay after the feast, you know,” added Demi.
“I never went to a ball. What do you have to do?” asked Nat.
“Oh, we just play be men, and sit round stiff and stupid like grown-up folks, and dance to please the girls. Then we eat up everything, and come away as soon as we can.”
“I think I could do that,” said Nat, after considering Tommy’s description for a minute.
“I’ll write and say we’ll come;” and Demi despatched the following gentlemanly reply,—
“We will all come. Please have lots to eat.—J. B. Esquire.”
Great was the anxiety of the ladies about their first ball, because if every thing went well they intended to give a dinner-party to the chosen few.