How they laughed! for a time they could do nothing else, because if one tried to explain she broke down and joined in the gale of merriment again quite helplessly. One or two got hysterical and cried as well as laughed, and all made such a noise that Augusta's mamma peeped in to see what was the matter. Six agitated hands pointed to the comical sight on the table, which looked as if a flight of potted pigeons had alighted there, and six breathless voices cried in a chorus: "Isn't it funny? Don't tell!" Much amused, the good lady retired to enjoy the joke alone, while the exhausted girls wiped their eyes and began to talk, all at once. Such a clatter! but out of it all Patty evolved the fact that each meant to surprise the rest,--and they certainly had. "I tried puff-paste," said Augusta, fanning her hot face. "So did I," cried the others. "And it was a dead failure." "So was mine," echoed the voices. "Then I thought I'd do the other dish we had that day--" "Just what I did." "Feeling sure you would all try the pastry, and perhaps get on better than I." "Exactly our case," and a fresh laugh ended this general confession. "Now we must eat our pigeons, as we have nothing else, and it is against the rule to add from outside stores. I propose that we each pass our dish round; then we can all criticise it, and so get some good out of this very funny lunch." Augusta's plan was carried out; and all being hungry after their unusual exertions, the girls fell upon the unfortunate birds like so many famished creatures. The first one went very well, but when the dishes were passed again, each taster looked at it anxiously; for none were very good, there was nothing to fall back upon, and variety is the spice of life, as every one knows. "Oh, for a slice of bread," sighed one damsel. "Why didn't we think of it?" asked another. "I did, but we always have so much cake I thought it was foolish to lay in rolls," exclaimed Augusta, rather mortified at the neglect. "I expected to have to taste six pies, and one doesn't want bread with pastry, you know." As Edith spoke she suddenly remembered Patty's biscuit, which had been left on the side-table by their modest maker, as there seemed to be no room for them. Rejoicing now over the rather despised dish, Edith ran to get it, saying as she set it in the middle, with a flourish:-- "My cousin's contribution. She came so late we only had time for that. So glad I took the liberty of bringing her and them." A murmur of welcome greeted the much-desired addition to the feast, which would have been a decided failure without it, and the pretty plate went briskly round, till nothing was left but the painted roses in it. With this help the best of the potted pigeons were eaten, while a lively discussion went on about what they would have next time.