"Ouches!" every minute or two as her shoeless feet stepped on a root or a hard pebble, and they had to be called back by the rest when lunch was ready.
It was certainly a merry meal. The girls made birch bark plates, and they had paper napkins in their baskets, and plenty of doughnuts to go with the coffee. Art used the last of the flour and condensed milk for flapjacks, cooking busily while the rest ate, and looking very happy when the girl in pink said, "It's too bad. You aren't getting anything at all."
"He don't mind," said Peanut. "He'd rather cook than eat anything, especially for girls."
"Does he like girls?" asked Alice, who was seated on the ground, with her feet sticking out, so she could wiggle the dangling toes of Peanut's socks, which made everybody laugh.
"Does he like girls! You should have heard what he said about 'em this morning!" Peanut replied.
"Shut up—or when I get you to-night" Art half whispered this at Peanut.
"Oh, tell me, tell me!" cried Alice.
"I'll whisper it," said Peanut.
He whispered in her ear, and she burst out laughing. Her sister, in pink, was trying hard to hear, but she couldn't.
"No, I'll never tell Grace," said Alice, wriggling
