"Gosh," said Kent, "did you bring your lunch? Say, I guess I'll go
home and get mother to give me some. But let's play pirates, first."

"All right! I choose to be chief first," agreed Lydia.

"And I'm the cannibal and baby's the stolen princess," said Kent.

The three children plunged into the game which is the common property
of childhood. For a time, bloody captures, savage orgies, escape,
pursuit, looting of great ships and burial of treasure, transformed the
quiet shore to a theater of high crime. At last, as the August noon
waxed high, and the hostage princess fell fast asleep in her
perambulator cave, the cannibal, who had shifted to captured duke,
bowed before the pirate.

"Sir," he said in a deep voice, "I have bethought myself of still
further treasure which if you will allow me to go after in my trusty
boat, I will get and bring to you--if you will allow me to say farewell
at that time to my wife and babes."

"Ha!" returned the pirate. "How do I know you'll come back?"

The duke folded his arms. "You have my word of honor which never has,
and never will, be broken."

"Go, duke--but return ere sundown." The pirate made a magnificent
gesture toward the bicycle, "and, say Kent, bring plenty to fill
yourself up, for I'm awful hungry and I'll need all we've got."

As Kent shot out of sight, Lydia turned to arrange the mosquito bar