CHAPTER LXII
ALICE GIVES A LUNCHEON
"THESE are the first baking powder biscuits I have ever made for company," said Alice, "but I knew that I must begin some time. Mother has gone out to spend the day; I persuaded her that my efforts to serve a luncheon would upset her nervous system completely. Just think, girls! You are at my mercy—for I have prepared this humble repast with my own useless hands!"
"Shame on you, Alice! Don't pretend to be so humble. You do everything so easily that I'll not be surprised to see you papering your own house and acting as your own plumber and doing every other hard thing. A useless butterfly like you who turns out to be so competent after all is the despair of all us plodders who have always plodded and always will!" And Ruth sighed.
"Never mind, Ruthie," said Bettina. "I've eaten a mighty fine luncheon that you cooked yourself—four or five courses, if I haven't forgotten!"
"Yes, and I worried every minute during that day!"
"We all do at first, except maybe Alice!"
"Why worry?" said Alice. "(Seems to me I've heard that expression before.) You girls won't die if the biscuits do fail—I'll give you bread. Harry and I are going to laugh at our own mistakes—and enjoy them. Isn't that a good philosophy? But, girls, to get down to biscuits. I want to ask you—one and all—collectively and individually, to be in my wedding party. With the addition of Sister, who isn't here. She and Bettina will be the matrons of honor. Will you?"
"Will we!" they all cried with enthusiasm.