“Well,” said Bell, waking up a little, “we will crowd everything possible into the last week and make it a real carnival time. To-morrow is Saturday and the picnic; on Monday or Tuesday we'll have some sort of a 'pow-wow,' as Uncle Harry says, for the boys, in return for their invitation, and then we'll think of something perfectly grand and stupendous for Friday, our last day of fun. It will take from that until Monday to get the house into something like order for my mother's return. (This with a remorseful recollection of the terrible back bed-room, where everything imaginable had been 'dumped' for a week past.)
“I haven't finished trimming our shade hats,” called Alice, faintly, from the distance. “I will do it in the morning while you are packing the luncheon. Whatever we do let us unpack our baskets privately and try to mix in our food with Mrs. Carter's or Mrs. Winship's, so that nobody will know which is which.”
The girls had tried to devise something jaunty, picturesque, and summery for a picnic costume; but the weather being too cold for a change of dress, they had only bought broad straw hats at the country store,--hats that farmers wore in haying time, with high crowns and wide brims. They had turned up one side of them coquettishly, and adorned it with funny silhouettes made of black paper, descriptive of their various adventures. Lilia's, for instance, had a huge ink bottle and sponge; Bell's a mammoth pie and frying-pan. Around the crowns they had tied colored scarfs of ribbon or gauze, interwoven with bunches of dried grasses, oats, and everlastings.
Half-past eight found them all sleep-in as soundly as dormice; and the next morning with the recuperative power that youth brings, they awoke entirely refreshed and ready for the fray.
The picnic was a glorious success. It was a clear, bright day, and not very cold; so that with a good fire they were able to have a couple of windows open, and to feel more as if they were out in the fresh air. The surprise and delight of the girls knew no bounds when they were ushered into their novel picnic ground, and even the older people avowed that they had never seen such a miracle of ingenuity. The scene was as pretty a one as can be imagined, though the young people little knew how lovely a picture they helped to make in the midst of their pastoral surroundings. Six charming faces they were, happy with girlish joy, sweet and bright from loving hearts, and pure, innocent, earnest living. Bell was radiant, issuing orders for the spread of the feast, flying here and there, laughing over a stuffed snake under a bush (Geoff's device), and talking merry nonsense with Hugh, her arch eyes shining with mischief under her great straw hat.