party in the woods."

"Who were you going to have at your tea party--Brer Rabbit and Brer Fox?"

"No, indeed," said the child, a fine scorn kindling her features; "no,
indeed. We were going to have General Morgan and Uncle Charlie and you. Of
course it was make-believe. That's the way we play, but we like it ever so
much."

"Well, if I take your chicken fixings you can't have any tea party."

"O yes, I can. I can just make-believe some hungry soldier has come along
and eaten it all up."

"There is no make-believe about that," laughed the soldier; "that's real."

There was a smothered sound in the direction of Polly. The boy turned
toward her, evidently seeing her for the first time.

"What's the matter with you, tar baby?"

"I wuz gwiner tell you erbout de time de Union sojer stole Miss Betsy's
bee-hives, en he wuz dat hongry he pitch en ter de honey fo' de bees got
out, en one git en hees frote en stung him; Lawdy, how he hollered! But I
won't, cors you called me tar baby."

"I beg your pardon, I meant no offense. I just have an unfortunate habit
of calling things by their names. I am like the hungry old lady who sung:

"'Alack-alack, alack-alack!
A dinner's a dinner, a snack's a snack.
I can call them none other, alack-alack!'

"But I think I have gotten the gist of your story from the preamble; so
am not inconsolable. Anyhow," he turned to Roberta, "if you wait here a
little you can have a sure-enough General Morgan and Uncle Charlie at your
tea party. They are just behind. Only, if they are as hungry as I am, I
don't know how they will like that make-believe part."

Away ran the child to Squire that she might tell him Uncle Charlie was
just behind, and urge him forward to meet him. The soldier looked after
her with a rueful expression.

"'Le roi est mort; vive le roi!'" he said--("'The king is dead; live the
king!') My little sweetheart is a gem, if she did go back on me for Uncle
Charlie."

While Lewie Kurl talked with Roberta the animal he rode seemed laboring
under strange excitement. She looked back at the horses in old Squire's
wagon, neighed joyously and with spirit. Absorbed in his conversation,
Lewie let the reins fall loosely about the mare's neck. In an instant she
turned and made for the wagon. Then began a pantomimic show of
affectionate demonstrations. The old comrades of the stable and meadow
kissed and caressed each other fondly. It required a firm hold upon the
reins to