Then James and Thomas came in carrying big, covered baskets.

"The picnic! The picnic!" cried Rosy Posy, to whom a picnic meant chiefly the feast thereof.

After the baskets were deposited on the ground near the flat rock, James and Thomas went away, and none of the servants remained but Nurse Nannie, who would have gone to the picnic in the wood, and who was needed to look after little Rosamond.

"Now, my boys," said Mr. Maynard, "we must wait on ourselves, you know; and on the ladies. This is a real picnic."

Very willingly the boys fell upon the baskets, and soon had their contents set out upon the big rocks.

Such shouts of delight as went up at sight of those contents!

And indeed it was fun!

No china dishes or linen napery, but wooden plates and j.a.panese paper napkins in true picnic style. Then while the girls set the viands in order, the boys mended the fire in the big fireplace, and put potatoes in to roast. Mrs. Maynard had thoughtfully selected small potatoes, and so they were soon done, and with b.u.t.ter and pepper and salt they tasted exactly as roast potatoes do in the woods, and every one knows there is no better taste than that!

While the potatoes were roasting, too, the lemonade must be made. Mr.

Maynard and d.i.c.k Fulton squeezed the lemons, while Kingdon volunteered to go down to the spring for water.

This made great fun, for they all knew he only went to the kitchen, but he returned with a pail of "cold spring water," and then Mrs. Maynard attended to the mixing of the lemonade.

The feast itself was found to include everything that had been asked for beforehand.

Cold chicken, devilled eggs, sandwiches, lemon tarts, all were there, besides lots of other good things.

They all pretended, of course, that they were really in the woods.

"How blue the sky is to-day," said Mr. Maynard, looking upward, as he sat on a log, with a sandwich in one hand and a gla.s.s of lemonade in the other.

As the ceiling was papered in a design of white and gold, it required some imagination to follow his remark, but they were all equal to it.

"Yes," said Marjorie, gazing intently skyward; "it's a beeyootiful day.

But I see a slight cloud, as if it _might_ rain to-morrow."

"We need rain," said Mr. Maynard; "the country is drying up for the lack of it."

As it was still pouring steadily, this was very funny, and of course they all giggled.

Then King went on.

"The sun is so bright it hurts my eyes. I wish I had a pair of green gla.s.ses to protect them."

"Or a parasol," said Gladys. "I'm sorry I left mine at home."

"What are we going to do at the picnic this afternoon, Father?" asked Kitty.

"I thought we'd fly kites," said Mr. Maynard, "but there isn't a breath of air stirring, so we can't."

The wind was blowing a perfect gale, so this made them all laugh again, and Gladys said to Marjorie, "I do think your father is the _funniest_ man!"

At last the more substantial part of the luncheon was over, and it was time for the ice-cream.

The freezer was brought right into the picnic ground, and Kingdon and d.i.c.k were asked to dig the ice-cream out with a big wooden spoon, just as they always did at picnics. The heaps of pink and white delight, on fresh pasteboard plates, were pa.s.sed around, and were eaten by those surprising children with as much relish as if they hadn't just consumed several basketsful of other things.

Then the candies were brought in, but, strange to say, n.o.body cared much for any just then.

So Mrs. Maynard had the seven pretty fancy baskets, that they had gathered nuts in, brought back, and each child was allowed to fill a basket with the pretty candies.

These were set away until the picnic was over, when they were to be taken home as souvenirs.

Luncheon over, Mr. Maynard decreed that the picnickers needn't do the cleaning away, as that couldn't be done by merely throwing away things as they did in the woods.

So Sarah came in to tidy up the room, and Mr. Maynard seated his whole party on the big logs and stones, while he told them stories.

The stories were well worth listening to, and though Rosy Posy fell asleep, the others listened breathlessly to the tales which were told in a truly dramatic fashion. But after an hour or so of this, Mr. Maynard suddenly declared that the picnic was becoming too quiet.

"I wanted you all to sit still for a while after your hearty luncheon,"

he said, "but now you need exercise. Shall we play 'Still Pond'?"

A howl of glee greeted this suggestion, for Still Pond in the house was usually a forbidden game.

As you probably know, it is like Blindman's Buff, only the ones who are not blinded may not move.

Marjorie was "It" first, and after being carefully blindfolded by her father, she stood still in the middle of the floor and counted ten very slowly. While she did this, the others placed themselves behind tables or chairs, or wherever they felt safe from the blindfolded pursuer.

"Ten!" cried Marjorie, at last. "Still Pond! No moving!"

This was a signal for perfect quiet; any one moving after that had to be "It" in turn.

No sound was heard, so Marjorie felt her way cautiously about until she should catch some one. It was hard for the others not to laugh as she narrowly escaped touching Kingdon's head above the back of the sofa, and almost caught Kitty's foot as it swung from a table. But at last she caught her father, who was on the floor covered up with an afghan, and so Mr. Maynard was "It" in his turn.

It was a rollicking game, and a very exciting one, and, as often was the case, it soon merged into Blindman's Buff. This was even more romping and noisy, and soon the picnic sounded like Pandemonium let loose.

"Good!" cried Mr. Maynard, as he looked at the red, laughing faces, and moist, tumbled curls. "You look just like a lot of healthy, happy boys and girls should look, but that's enough of that. Now, we'll sit down in a circle, and play quiet games."

Again the group occupied the logs and stones, ottomans and sofa cushions if they preferred, and they played guessing games selected by each in turn.

When it was Mr. Maynard's turn, he said he would teach them the game of the Popular Picnic. He began by telling them they must each in turn repeat what he himself should say.

Turning to Kingdon, he said, "To-day I have been to the Popular Picnic."

So Kingdon said to d.i.c.k, "To-day I have been to the Popular Picnic."

Then d.i.c.k said it to Marjorie, and Marjorie to Gladys, and so on all round the circle.

Then Mr. Maynard said, gravely: "To-day I have been to the Popular Picnic. Merry, madcap Mopsy Midget was there."

This was repeated all round, and then to the lingo Mr. Maynard added, "Kicking, kinky-legged Kingdon was there."