Maida could hear the children giggling at her. She tried another
scheme, making vicious little dabs at the apples. Her beads and her
hair-ribbon and one of her long curls dipped into the water. But she
only succeeded in sending the apples spinning across the tub.

"Two minutes!" called Laura.

"Why don't you get those half a dozen," the children jeered. "You
know you said it was so easy."

Maida giggled too. But inwardly, she made up her mind that she would
get one of those apples if she dipped her whole head into the tub.
At last a brilliant idea occurred to her. Using her chin as a guide,
she poked a big rosy apple over against the side of the tub. Wedging
it there against another big apple, she held it tight. Then she
dropped her head a little, gave a sudden big bite and arose amidst
applause, with the apple secure between her teeth.

After that she had the fun of watching the other children. The older
ones were adepts. In three minutes, Rosie secured four, Dicky five
and Arthur six. Rosie did not get a drop of water on her but the
boys emerged with dripping heads. The little children were not very
successful but they were more fun. Molly swallowed so much water
that she choked and had to be patted on the back. Betsy after a few
snaps of her little, rosebud mouth, seized one of the apples with
her hand, sat down on the floor and calmly ate it. But the climax
was reached when Tim Doyle suddenly lurched forward and fell
headlong into the tub.

"I knew he'd fall in," Molly said in a matter-of-fact voice. "He
always falls into everything. I brought a dry set of clothes for
him. Come, Tim!"

At this announcement, everybody shrieked. Molly disappeared with Tim
in the direction of Laura's bedroom. When she reappeared, sure
enough, Tim had a dry suit on.

Next Laura ordered them to sit about the kitchen-table. She gave
each child an apple and a knife and directed him to pare the apple
without breaking the peel. If you think that is an easy thing to do,
try it. It seemed to Maida that she never would accomplish it. She
spoiled three apples before she succeeded.

"Now take your apple-paring and form in line across the
kitchen-floor," Laura commanded.

The flock scampered to obey her.

"Now when I say 'Three!'" she continued, "throw the parings back
over your shoulder to the floor. If the paring makes a letter, it
will be the initial of your future husband or wife. One! _Two_!
THREE!"

A dozen apple-parings fl