"That's the question," said Laura, glad to have arrived at something practical, a matter she often found rather difficult with Ivy. "Mother has promised a loaf of bread."
"And I'll ask Mother to give some rolls—but that's bread too; sounds so dry—I hate dry bread!"
"Kizzie always gives me a dish of honey for breakfast. I'll ask her for some of it, and Mrs. Major gets the loveliest little pats of butter from the country, marked with a dear little cow—I'm sure she will give me one!"
"Instead of a bird that will be a butterfly," interposed Ivy; "or a cowslip!"
"Or a buttercup and a honey-bee," returned Alene.
"You wretches! Here's one to get even. As Mrs. Kump works at quilting, we ought to send her a quilting-bee!"
Laura's sally was greeted with groans.
"Well, there's something you won't groan about. Mrs. Kump was lamenting that she couldn't go out to pick any berries this year and so will miss her jam. Let's go blackberrying to-morrow morning, if the boys will go along; we can get home before noon and I'll make her a jar of jam."
"Splendid!" cried Alene, "I've never gone berrying in my life!"
"What's the matter with you, Ivy? You are not usually so shy!"