"Ma let me put it on the very last minute, and it baked so hard I
couldn't pick it off. We can give Belinda that piece, so it's just as
well," observed Betty, taking the lead, as her child was queen of the
revel.

"Let's set them round, so they can see too," proposed Bab, going, with a
hop, skip, and jump, to collect her young family.

Betty agreed, and for several minutes both were absorbed in seating
their dolls about the table; for some of the dear things were so limp
they wouldn't sit up, and others so stiff they wouldn't sit down, and
all sorts of seats had to be contrived to suit the peculiarities of
their spines. This arduous task accomplished, the fond mammas stepped
back to enjoy the spectacle, which, I assure you, was an impressive one.
Belinda sat with great dignity at the head, her hands genteelly holding
a pink cambric pocket-handkerchief in her lap. Josephus, her cousin,
took the foot, elegantly arrayed in a new suit of purple and green
gingham, with his speaking countenance much obscured by a straw hat
several sizes too large for him; while on either side sat guests of
every size, complexion, and costume, producing a very gay and varied
effect, as all were dressed with a noble disregard of fashion.

"They will like to see us get tea. Did you forget the buns?" inquired
Betty, anxiously.

"No; got them in my pocket." And Bab produced from that chaotic cupboard
two rather stale and crumbly ones, saved from lunch for the fete. These
were cut up and arranged in plates, forming a graceful circle around the
cake, still in its basket.