to grub up an armful of sassafras roots; so that before they had fairly
gone through Toadstool Avenue, Rabbit Hollow, and the rest, the sun was
just over their heads, and it was noon.

"I'm getting hungry," said Dorry.

"Oh, no, Dorry, you mustn't be hungry till the bower is ready!" cried
the little girls, alarmed, for Dorry was apt to be disconsolate if he
was kept waiting for his meals. So they made haste to build the bower.
It did not take long, being composed of boughs hung over skipping-ropes,
which were tied to the very poplar-tree where the fairy lived who had
recommended sassafras tea to the Fairy of the Rose.

When it was done they all cuddled in underneath. It was a very small
bower--just big enough to hold them, and the baskets, and the kitten. I
don't think there would have been room for anybody else, not even
another kitten. Katy, who sat in the middle, untied and lifted the lid
of the largest basket, while all the rest peeped eagerly to see what
was inside.

First came a great many ginger cakes. These were carefully laid on the
grass to keep till wanted: buttered biscuit came next--three apiece,
with slices of cold lamb laid in between; and last of all were a dozen
hard-boiled eggs, and a layer of thick bread and butter sandwiched with
corn-beef. Aunt Izzie had put up lunches for Paradise before, you see,
and knew pretty well what to expect in the way of appetite.

Oh, how good everything tasted in that bower, with the fresh wind
rustling the poplar leaves, sunshine and sweet wood-smells about them,
and birds singing overhead! No grown-up dinner party ever had half so