"I don't know how to thank you, Chi," said March, "but I 'll treat Fleet like a lady and I 'll study like a--like a house on fire. I don't envy that other fellow his saddle horse if I can have Fleet. What's his name, mother? you haven't told us yet."
"Why, so I have n't--Ford, Alan Ford, and his sister's name is Ruth."
"When can we go over and see them, Martie?" said Rose.
"I thought two or three days after Thanksgiving, and then you can take a little neighborly thank-offering with you."
"What can we take?" queried Cherry.
"Oh, a mince pie or two, some raspberry preserves, a comb of last summer's honey, a pat of butter, a nice bunch of our white-plume celery, and, perhaps, Chi could find a brace of partridges."
"M-m--does n't that sound good-tasting!" said Cherry, patting her chest ecstatically.
"Who 's coming for Thanksgiving, Martie?" asked Budd.
"All the Lost Nation--the Spillkinses and Aunt Tryphosa and Maria-Ann, Lemuel and his wife and--who else? Guess."
"Why, that's all."