``I don't know, I'm sure, what you did hear,''
she retorted calmly.

``Billy!''

Billy laughed. The chin was just as stubborn,
but the smiling lips above it graced it with an
air of charming concession.

``There, there, dear,'' coaxed the mistress of
Hillside, ``don't fret. Besides, I'm sure I should
think you, of all people, would want your guests
_fed!_''

``But this is so elaborate, from what I hear.''

``Nonsense! Not a bit of it.''

``Rosa says there'll be salads and cakes and
ices--and I don't know what all.''

Billy looked concerned.

``Well, of course, Marie, if you'd _rather_ have
oatmeal and doughnuts,'' she began with kind
solicitude; but she got no farther.

``Billy!'' besought the bride elect. ``Won't
you be serious? And there's the cake in wedding
boxes, too.''