"Oh, wouldn't it be nice to give the boys a supper?—a supper all cooked by ourselves?" said Lil, with a sudden inspiration.
"Jolly enough," said Ollie.
"And have it in the woods," said Clara. "Do you know where they have gone?" she asked.
"Yes, they were to fish in Black Creek—down where we gathered pond-lilies last week."
"That is not too far. Mother, may we do it?"
"To be sure. You may have a share of everything we have made. Let me see, there's an apple-pie, a pan of biscuit— I can whip up some corn-bread—"
"Oh, please let me do it," said Lil.
No sooner said than done. Again they went to work. By the time the corn-bread was finished, Mrs. Pokeby had packed the baskets. Lil had looked about fifty times in the oven, and fifty times more at the receipt-book, to see if she had followed the instructions properly, while Clara and Ollie and the other girls had provided glasses and spoons and napkins.
"Now we are all ready—come on, girls," was at last the order issued by Lil, and away they went. Mr. Pokeby gave them a lift on the empty hay-cart, and carried the heaviest basket to the woods. They chose a lovely spot, grassy and smooth, not far from the path where the boys would have to pass. They could hear their voices now, and the occasional splash of an oar. They spread out their table-cloth, made a fire, and Lil said she was going to scramble some eggs; meanwhile Ollie and Clara could be on the watch to secure the guests.
It was a delightful afternoon, and a cool breeze was fluttering the grasses. The water of the creek reflected the overhanging boughs in its dark surface, water-spiders were spinning their little whirls, crickets were singing, and swallows had begun their evening hunt.