Trix and Amy were twins—that is, as they explained to everybody, one was eleven and the other ten, and they weren't the least bit of relation to one another, but both their birthdays was the same day, the eighth of August. On the afternoon of the seventh four small notes appeared in the post-office addressed to Lady Catharine Seyton, Mrs. Peace Plenty, Lady Griselda of the Castle of the Lonely Lake, and Sir Harry Hotspur, stating that the favor of their company was requested for a day in the woods on the following day by Lady Alma Cara and Mr. Oliver Twist, in celebration of the birthday of Lady Catharine Seyton and Mrs. Peace Plenty. The recipients of this invitation showed their joy with less dignity of manner than one might have expected from their lofty titles. Sir Harry Hotspur immediately climbed a tree, and sat whooping on a limb for a few moments before descending in a somersault from a lower one. Lady Catharine Seyton, regardless of her eleven years, danced a sort of impromptu skirt dance, in which Lady Griselda joined, and Mrs. Peace Plenty hopped on and off the apple-tree stump, which served as a seat, fully twenty times without stopping, which was undignified in a well-known philanthropist.
The eighth dawned fair and lovely, though rather warm. The four children met at Miss Isabel's gate, where she and Mr. Dean were awaiting them. Amy brought her doll Rose Viola along, for, as she justly remarked, she did not see why growing up need make one forget old friends, and for her part she meant to play with Rose Viola till she was twenty. A three-seated wagon stood waiting them as they came up to the meeting-place, and hampers of the most exciting appearance stuck out all round under the seats.
"Trix and Amy are the guests of honor to-day, because it is their birthday," announced Mr. Dean. "Up with you first, lassies, and many happy returns of the day."
The drive to the woods was a delight in itself, so fragrant was the air, and so beautiful the roadside with the bright flowers of August, and the blackberries showing red through the vines, with some black as jet, and here and there the leaves beginning to bronze.
The last of the drive was through the woods, and the shrill voices hushed as the great trees darkened the road, and the wheels rolled almost noiselessly over the fragrant carpet of brown pine needles. They left the horse and his driver at the last point where driving was possible, and lading themselves with the contents of the wagon went on afoot.
"There is a spring not far from here," said Mr. Dean. "I came prospecting the other day, and I thought that would be the best place for us to pitch our tents, for I expect to be both hungry and thirsty."
The spot that Mr. Dean had selected for their use was the prettiest in all the woods. Though the fierce heat of the sun, penetrating even the thick hemlocks, had dried much of the delicate leafage, the spring had here kept the moss bright and green, and the brakes and ferns grew tall and lovely in all the hollows.
The children drew long breaths of satisfaction as they paused here, and stooped to lay their burning cheeks on the cool pillows of moss. Miss Isabel sank down with a happy sigh, caressing a fern at her side with her delicate fingers, as if it were a little baby's hair. But her guests were not disposed to be quiet long.
"Now what shall we do?" said Jack, starting up after fully three minutes and a half of silent enjoyment of the peace and refreshment of the spot.
"What would you like to do first?" asked Mr. Dean, with a twinkle in his eye.