"Mammy," he said, "Mars' Gran'son send word dat de capting and some udders will have supper to-morr' night on de green over by de summer-house. And he want you to make some porkapine marmalade, some melon puff, some peach tart, and some sorghum foam to eat on pandowdy with de salads."

Mammy immediately straightened up, put on a face of great importance, and began:

"I ain't fit fo' to try cookin' fancy tings fo' gret suppers, but--"

"Oh, very well," said Corniel, interrupting her, "Jinny can do it if you ain't able; Mars' said so."

But Mammy cried out, in a tone that made her soft voice seem very shrill:

"Go 'way, you C'neel, talkin' 'bout Jinny doin' _my_ cook'ry. I'd like to be seein' de porkapine marm'lade _she'd_ be makin'! And what do dat Jinny know 'bout whipped sorghum or melon puff, I should like to inquaire! Tote off, now, you C'neel, an' don't go talkin' 'bout dat Jinny doin' my fancy cook'ry any mor', but jus' you tell Mars' Gran'son I'll hev dat supper firs' cla.s.s in eb'ry respeck."

Sally somehow liked the pride and scorn that rang out in Mammy's voice at the idea of there being any one else who could do her cooking as well as she could.

"She believes in herself," thought Sally, "and it is a good thing."

Mammy hobbled into her cabin as Corniel and Sam went toward the house, little Jule tagging into the cabin after Mammy. And Sally went back through the sweet air and green roads, and through Shady Path and Lover's Lane, her mind and ears full of the merry laughter of happy little Jule.

CHAPTER VI.

THE SUPPER COMPANY

When Sally heard the order for the supper company the next night, she at once decided that her own simple meal must be quickly eaten, as she must see something of the fine things at Ingleside.

By standing on the rocks it would be easy to peep through the thin tangle near the arbor just above her head and close by the wall. It would not do to take long peeps, but she could take several for a moment at a time. Yet she must beware: a sudden gust of wind might part the slight brush, show her bright eyes, then, alas, the pleasure it might take from her!

Oh, but it was wonders she did with the old brush, the same that the groom had thrown away at Ingleside! She did not wait until evening to try it, but during the afternoon, with the bit of looking-gla.s.s propped up before her, she patiently brushed and brushed, until something like a parting appeared along the middle of her well-shaped head.

At that she took a stout pin, and running it down the uneven seam, made a beautiful even parting, the thick, ruddy hair standing high on each side of it.

"My, how pretty that looks!" innocently murmured the child. Then again she brushed and brushed, until the ripply ma.s.s shone like unto burnished gold. And now, instead of a matted mop, it lay row upon row of soft, loose, orderly ringlets, so careless yet neat in arrangement that Sally awoke right there to a knowledge of the extreme beauty of her luxurious hair.

She gurgled with laughter, saying, in the pretended new voice:

"You will find out considerable about yourself, Maid Sally, what you can do, and maybe what you can be, if only you follow what I teach. High time it is you waked up."

Then replied a forlorn young voice:

"Yes, but what good doth it do a poor thing like me to wake up? It is only to find out how mean and soiled is my dress, how brown are my hands and feet, and worst of all, that no matter how hard I might long for it, learning is not for a maid of my quality."

"Prithee, be patient!" cried the new Sally, cheerily. "Thou hast already made of thyself a more seemly looking maid; still better things may come ere long."

New words came into Sally's mind as she talked to her other self, and her language became more proper, sure sign that somewhere within her a truly fine nature was hidden away.

When she appeared at supper that afternoon, Mistress Cory Ann exclaimed:

"Oh, good Peter! do look at the young one's head, will you? Now have you been meddling with my comb to-day?" she asked, sharply.

"I found an old brush that I washed and used, Mistress," Sally answered, "and I think it were time my hair should be made decent."

"Now don't go wasting time trying to get up smart looks," said Mistress Cory Ann; for, truth to tell, it was sorry she felt to see the great change and improvement in Sally's appearance. And what was more, she had noticed that the useful child was growing careful and thoughtful in a way she did not at all desire she should. Because, if Sally began making the most of herself, what might it not lead to, pray?

She was through her supper so soon that Mistress Brace again said, tartly:

"If you take not time to eat your victuals, seeing you are let off after supper, it is to the table you will stay until the rest of us are through."

Sally thought to herself, "I will tarry longer at the table to-morrow night," but now, off she flew, and in a trice was through the hedge, on the stones, and peeping with great care at a wonderful table, such as she had never dreamed of in her brightest of fancies.

The long board gleamed with shining, spotless linen. Gla.s.s and silver dishes covered the table. Sprays of green, and bright, choice flowers lay around, and in between the plates and gla.s.ses, with charming color and taste.

Corniel, in white clothes, with several colored girls about him, who were to a.s.sist in waiting, was flourishing about, placing food at proper s.p.a.ces, setting chairs, and giving orders in a pompous way Sally thought he must enjoy.

Mammy Leezer's cookery was indeed most beautiful to look upon. The porcupine marmalade, on two separate platters of white china ware edged with gilt, was a thick jam made from plums or prunes, then turned out from long oval moulds, and stuck all over with small spikes of cocoanut meat, standing straight and stiff, looking in very truth like the quills of the little animal called the porcupine.

The melon puff was a splendid-looking ma.s.s, heaped high in a tall gla.s.s dish, and appearing as if made from strained melon pulp, and the whipped whites of eggs with powdered sugar.

The peach tart was a form of pie with golden-looking sauce peeping up between crisscross strips of rich puff paste. And pandowdy with sorghum foam had the look, in a deep gla.s.s dish, of being apple sauce and pie-crust mixed, with a delicious pyramid of golden-colored whipped sugar standing in a point on the top.

Chicken salad, in other long white and gilt platters, was beautifully ornamented with white and yellow rings of hard-boiled eggs, having sprigs of green run through the rings in a way to form fancy garlands above the crisp whitey-green bordering of lettuce leaves.

"Oh, it is the food of the Fairies! It is the food of the G.o.ds!"

Sally whispered in soft delight to herself, not noticing or scarcely knowing what she was saying. All her soul was steeped in wonder at the fine, the beautifully fine, things spread before her.

"But they are not for me," she sighed. "Oh, no, never can they be for me!"

"Why not?" asked the cheery voice that Sally was beginning to listen for, and to like much to hear.

"I'm so poor," answered Sally, with the usual downward look at frock, hands, and feet.

"Lift yourself up," said the voice, that seemed ever determined to help and comfort poor Sally.

"I will try," she replied. Then, in a sparkling, sunshiny way, she said to herself:

"Oh, you shall be my good Fairy, you new voice! Why not! I will call you the Fairy whenever you speak."

"Very well, then. You can call me the good Fairy, and Master Lionel can be your Fairy Prince."

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" gasped Sally. "How dreadful! How ever can I dare!"

She almost tumbled from her perch, so great appeared her presumption in allowing the thought of coming so near to the Fairy Prince even in imagination.

But the hopeful voice was talking again:

"Do not put yourself down all the time; there may be no reason why you should not rise, _if you will!_"