“What is your name?” asked Diddie. “I name—I name—I name—Miss Gin-house,” said Tot, who had evidently never thought of a name, and had suddenly decided upon gin-house, as her eye fell upon that object. “No, no, Tot, that’s a _thing;_ that ain’t no name for folks,” said Diddie. “Let’s play you’re Mrs. Bunker Hill; that’s a nice name.” “Yes, I name Miss Unker Bill,” said the gentle little girl, who rarely objected to playing just as the others wished. Miss “Unker Bill” was shown to her room; and now Riar came out, shaking her hand up and down, and saying, “Ting-er-ling—ting-er-ling—ting-er-ling!” That was the dinner-bell, and they all assembled around a table that Riar had improvised out of a piece of plank supported on two bricks, and which was temptingly set out with mud pies and cakes and green leaves, and just such delicacies as Riar and Diddie could pick up. As soon as Mrs. Washington laid eyes on the mud cakes and pies, she exclaimed, “Oh, Diddie, I’m er goin’ ter be the cook, an’ make the pies an’ things.” “I doin’ ter be de took an’ make de itty mud takes,” said Miss Unker Bill, and the table at once became a scene of confusion. “No, Dumps,” said Diddie, “somebody’s got to be stoppin’ at the hotel, an’ I think the niggers ought to be the cooks.” “But I want ter make the mud cakes,” persisted Dumps, an’ Tot can be the folks at the hotel—she and the doll-babies.” “No, I doin’ ter make de mud takes, too,” said Tot, and the hotel seemed in imminent danger of being closed for want of custom, when a happy thought struck Dilsey. “Lor-dy, chil’en! I tell yer: le’s play Ole Billy is er gemman what writ ter Miss Diddie in er letter dat he was er comin’ ter de hotel, an’ ter git ready fur ’im gins he come.” “Yes,” said Diddie, and lets play Dumps an’ Tot was two mo’ niggers I had ter bring up from the quarters to help cook; an’ we’ll make out Ole Billy is some great general or somethin’, an’ we’ll have ter make lots of cakes an’ puddin’s for ’im. Oh, I know; we’ll play he’s Lord Burgoyne.” All of the little folks were pleased at that idea, and Diddie immediately began to issue her orders. “You, Dumps, an’ Tot an’ Dilsey, an’ all of yer—I’ve got er letter from Lord Burgoyne, an’ he’ll be here to-morrow, an’ I want you all to go right into the kitchen an’ make pies an’ cakes.” And so the whole party adjourned to a little ditch where mud and water were plentiful (and which on that account had been selected as the kitchen), and began at once to prepare an elegant dinner. Dear me! how busy the little housekeepers were! and such beautiful pies they made, and lovely cakes all iced with white sand, and bits of grass laid around the edges for trimming! and all the time laughing and chatting as gayly as could be.