Ellen’s expression was not wholly encouraging, as she took the little book. It read:—

Cantaloupes with ice.
————————
Eggs in tomato cases. Rice patés.
Thin bread and butter.
Parmesian balls on lettuce, with French dressing.
Olives. Wafers.
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Mint sherbet.
————————
Nuts.

“Cantyloops! What’s them?” demanded Ellen.

CANTYLOOPS! WHAT’S THEM?

Barbara explained.

“Oh, mush-melons! Why didn’t you say so? Mush-melons won’t be ripe fer a month. What’s that next thing?”

“That’s a new way of serving eggs,” said Barbara; “the recipe’s in the book. It’s simple, and very pretty.”

“You can’t serve ’em that way in this town,” grumbled Ellen. “Tomatoes don’t come in cases,—they come in baskets. And as long as there’s a dish in the house where I’m working, I won’t never set a tomato-basket on the table. What’s rice payts!”