at there would be some delightful surprise about
it.

When Pirlaps announced the first Toast, however, and the first
slice walked heavily out from behind the little screen at the
toastmaster's elbow, Sara again felt a sinking of the heart; for,
except that he walked on his lower right-hand corner, as he had been
trained to do, and made a rather awkward and laborious bow when his
name was announced, he looked otherwise so exactly like a plain, brown,
fat, every-day-in-the-year piece of breakfast toast that it was hard
to be enthusiastic about him--at least in the presence of all the
exotic-looking dainties the other guests were to have! However, Sara
made a great effort, and settled herself to listen to the Toasts
politely. The name of this Toast was "Sara's Day--Because She is Older
than the Snoodle," and the Plynck responded to it. The way she
responded was this: the Toast balanced himself with difficulty on his
lower corner, and said, in a throaty voice, "How do you do, Madame
Plynck?" and the Plynck bowed (much more gracefully) and responded,
"How do you do, Toast?" And then she made a speech on the Toast's
subject. While she was making the speech (which was lovely--she fairly
soared) the Toast tottered over to Sara's plate and lay down in it,
without any further sign of life or animation. Avrillia leaned over
and Whispered, "Eat it, Sara," and then Sara did. And she didn't have
any trouble keeping from being disappointed, after that. For, just as
Avrillia had hinted, the toast, in spite of its appearance, was really
Angel Food cake; and as she ate it, Sara found at her elbow a bottle
marked "Birdsong Wine--Bluebird." As the Gunki were all eating, they
couldn't wait on her, so she poured it into her glass herself; and
when she had taken a sip, it tasted just like April! You may imagine
that, from that time on, Sara had no further anxiety about what she
was to eat, and that her mind was now entirely free to enjoy the
Toasts. The second Toast was announced, indeed, before she had
recovered from her first surprise and delight. The subject of this
Toast was, "Sara's Dimples--May I Never Get Them"; and of course it
was responded to by the Snimmy. There was no variety either in the
looks or in the performance of the Toasts; I must admit that they were
very heavy, awkward, and short of breath, and were as much alike as
the trained sea-lions at a circus. However, you felt that, like the
sea-lions, they were doing very well