“Well, I’m not sure yet. We’ll have to count the dishes and let that settle some questions. We must have enough to go around, you know, and all alike. I wonder if there are enough bouillon cups. It takes eight, you know—Father, Carey, you, and Harry, three guests and myself. Yes, that’s eight. Climb up to the top shelf there, dear, and see if there are enough of mother’s rosebud bouillon cups.” “There are nine and an extra saucer,” announced Louise. “Well, then we’ll have some kind of soup, just a little; I think maybe spinach, cream of spinach soup, it’s such a pretty color for spring, you know, that pale-green, and matches the dining-room. It’s easy to make, and doesn’t cost much; and then we can have the spinach for a vegetable with the meat course. Now, let’s see, those little clear sherbet glasses, are there enough of those?” “A whole dozen and seven,” announced Louise. “Then we’ll use those at the beginning for a fruit cocktail—orange, grapefruit, banana, and I’ll color it pink with a little red raspberry juice. I found a can among the preserves mother had left over from last winter. It makes a lovely pink, and that will match the baskets.” “Oh, lovely!” exclaimed the little girl ecstatically; “but won’t that cost a lot?” “No, dear, I think not. I’ll figure it down pretty close tonight and find out; but it doesn’t take much fruit to fill those tiny glasses, and it’s mostly show, you know—one grapefruit, a couple of oranges, and bananas, and the rest raspberry juice. Spinach is cheap now, you know; and we can make the body of the soup with a can of condensed milk. We can eat corn-meal mush and beans and things for a few days beforehand to make up.” “I just love fried mush and bean soup.” “You’re a ducky! And, besides, I’m going to save on the dessert.” “Aren’t we going to have ice-cream?” Louise’s voice showed anxiety. “Yes, but we’ll make it ourselves. I found the freezer out in the back shed under all those old carpets yesterday. And we’ll have pale-green peppermint water-ice. It’s beautiful, and costs hardly anything. You just make lemonade and put in a few drops of peppermint and a drop or two of confectioner’s green coloring; and it is the prettiest thing you ever laid eyes on, looks like a dream and tastes—wonderful!” “Oh!” said Louise, her eyes shining. “We’ll have angel cake for the birthday cake, I think,” went on the sister, “with white icing and little pink candles. Eggs are not expensive now, and anyway I found a recipe that says measure the whites, and such big eggs as we get take only nine to a cup. How will that be, angel cake and green water-ice for dessert?” Louise sat down, and folded her hands, her big, expressive eyes growing wide and serious. “It’s going to be a success!” she said solemnly with a grown-up air. “I was afraid she wouldn’t be—well—impressed but she will. It’s regular! You wanted her to be impressed, too; didn’t you, Nellie?”