Uncle Charlie's indisposition kept him from accompanying Missy and
Aunt Isabel to an ice-cream festival which was held on the
Congregational church lawn that first night. Aunt Isabel was a
Congregationalist; and, as mother was a Presbyterian and grandma a
Methodist, Missy was beginning to feel a certain kinship with all
religions.

This festival proved to be a sort of social gathering, because the
Congregational church in Pleasanton was attended by the town's
"best" people. The women were as stylishly dressed as though they
were at a bridge party--or a tournament. The church lawn looked very
picturesque with red, blue and yellow lanterns--truly a fair lawn
and "well victualled" with its ice-cream tables in the open. Large
numbers of people strolled about, and ate, and chatted and laughed.
The floating voices of people you couldn't see, the flickering light
of the lanterns, the shadows just beyond their swaying range, all
made it seem gay and alluring, so that you almost forgot that it was
only a church festival.

A big moon rose up from behind the church-tower, a beautiful and
medieval-looking combination. Missy thought of those olden-time
feasts "unto kings and dukes," when there was revel and play, and
"all manner of noblesse." And, though none but her suspected it, the
little white-covered tables became long, rough-hewn boards, and the
Congregational ladies' loaned china became antique-looking pewter,
and the tumblers of water were golden flaskets of noble wine. Missy,
who was helping Aunt Isabel serve at one of the tables, attended her
worshipful patrons with all manner of noblesse. She was glad she was
wearing her best pink mull with the brocaded sash.