"Why didn't we think of it?" asked another.
"I did, but we always have so much cake I thought it was foolish to lay in rolls," exclaimed Augusta, rather mortified at the neglect.
"I expected to have to taste six pies, and one doesn't want bread with pastry, you know."
As Edith spoke she suddenly remembered Patty's biscuit, which had been left on the side-table by their modest maker, as there seemed to be no room for them.
Rejoicing now over the rather despised dish, Edith ran to get it, saying as she set it in the middle, with a flourish:—
"My cousin's contribution. She came so late we only had time for that. So glad I took the liberty of bringing her and them."
A murmur of welcome greeted the much-desired addition to the feast, which would have been a decided failure without it, and the pretty plate went briskly round, till nothing was left but the painted roses in it. With this help the best of the potted pigeons were eaten, while a lively discussion went on about what they would have next time.
"Let us each tell our dish, and not change. We shall never learn if we don't keep to one thing till we do it well. I will choose mince-pie, and bring a good one, if it takes me all the week to do it," said Edith, heroically taking the hardest thing she could think of, to encourage the others.
Fired by this noble example, each girl pledged herself to do or die, and a fine list of rich dishes was made out by these ambitious young cooks. Then a vote of thanks to Patty was passed, her biscuit unanimously pronounced the most successful contribution, and the vase presented to the delighted girl, whose blushes were nearly as deep as the color of the flowers behind which she tried to hide them.
Soon after this ceremony the party broke up, and Edith went home to tell the merry story, proudly adding that the country cousin had won the prize.