toward the family. First we had a large and elegant teething-ring made to order for the baby. It was a foot through and several feet in diameter. The baby enjoyed it very much, and was somewhat consoled for the loss of the bull, which he had wished to keep as a pet.
I hired the sign-painter in a village not far away to write out the invitation for us upon the largest sheet of cardboard I could get in the city. It was ten feet by fifteen in size, and when inscribed looked truly hospitable. It read as usual—requesting the presence of Mr. and Mrs. Megalopod at dinner on the 20th. We had to send it by express. The expressman wanted us to roll it; but I did n't think it would be just the thing. So it was sent flat in an envelop made specially for it. They sent an acceptance nearly as large, and were kind enough to send later an informal note saying that they would bring their own plates, knives and forks, and so on.
"How thoughtful of them!" said my wife, who had been somewhat puzzled about how to set the table.
I had told the butcher and other tradesmen about the dinner, and they were to furnish ample provision. I had expected that they would be delighted to get the large orders; but one of them explained to me that after all it made no great difference. "For," said he, "if they had stayed at home, they would have ordered the same things nearly, anyway." But it was different with the confectioner. I ordered forty gallons of ice-cream, two thousand macaroons, and eighty pounds of the best mixed candies.
"It's for a large picnic?" he suggested.
"The largest kind," I replied, for we were of course to dine in the open air. In order to provide against rain, I hired a second-hand circus-tent, and had it set up in our front yard, where the table had already been constructed by a force of carpenters.
By stooping as they came in, and seating themselves near the center, our guests were not uncomfortable in the tent.
