“Togo,” say Hon. Snow with boss expression, “I shall attend to all the hard work of this picnic if you fetch 8 buckets water, cut down 11 trees, make Dutch oven by piling stones, put baby to sleep, watch twins and bake potatus.”
“This are very restful spot,” report Hon. Ethel.
I did not notice it. Nature look like any other kitchen to me, except there was more room to get tired in.
In the immediate meanwhile all that picnic were unfastening lunching basket and enjoying many unpleasant things about him.
“Who spilled mustard in angel cake?” require Hon. Snow looking like a jury.
“Togo,” report Hon. Mrs Snow peevly.
I say nothing by chopping wood.
“Who broke 17 eggs & forgot to bring butter while doing so?” approach Hon. Ethel with finacee eyebrows.
“Togo,” snuggest Hon. Albert with engaged expression.
I carry silent firewood to blazes.