d of her, "if we didn't get worms and bugs crawling over the
tablecloth."

"Oh sister!" exclaimed Miss Salisbury, quite shocked; "it is no time to
think of worms and bugs, I'm sure, on such a beautiful occasion as
this."

"Still, they are here," said Miss Anstice; "there is one now," looking
down at the hem of her gown. "_Ugh!_ go right away," slapping her book
at it. Then her thumb and finger flew out, and she lost her place, and
the bug ran away, and she added somewhat tartly, "For my own taste, I
should really prefer a festival in the schoolroom."

When it came to spreading the feast, not one of the maids was allowed to
serve. They could unpack the hampers, and hand the dishes and eatables
to the girls, and run, and wait, and tend. But no one but the Salisbury
girls must lay the snowy cloth, dress it up with flowers, with little
knots at the corners, concealing the big stones that kept the tablecloth
from flapping in any chance wind. And then they all took turns in
setting the feast forth, and arranging all the goodies. And some one had
to make the coffee, with a little coterie to help her. The crotched
sticks were always there just as they had left them where they hung the
kettle over the stone oven. And old man Kimball set one of the younger
drivers to make the fire--and a rousing good one it was--where they
roasted their corn and potatoes. And another one brought up the water
from the spring that bubbled up clear and cold in the rocky ravine, so
when all was ready it was a feast fit for a king, or rather the queen
and her royal subjects.

And then Miss Salisbury and "sister" were escorted with all appropriate
ceremonies down from their stone thrones,--and one had the head and the
other the foot of the feast spread on the grass,--to sit on a stone
draped with a shawl, and to be waited on lovingly by the girls, who
threw themselves down on the ground, surrounding the snowy cloth. And
they sat two or three rows deep; and those in the front row had to pass
the things, of course, to the back-row girls.

"Oh, you're spilling jelly-cake crumbs all down my back," proclaimed
Alexia, with a shudder. "Rose Harding," looking at the girl just back of
her, "can't you eat over your own lap, pray tell?"

"Well, give me your seat then," suggested Rose, with another good bite
from the crumbly piece in her hand, "if you don't like what the back-row
girls do."

"No, I'm not going to," said Alexia, "catch me! but you needn't e