much with excitement as from the heat of the fire,
prepared the bread sauce for the chickens, minced her onions for the
soup, and finally whipped the cream for her lemon pies.

And what about Davy all this time? Was he redeeming his promise to
be good? He was, indeed. To be sure, he insisted on remaining in the
kitchen, for his curiosity wanted to see all that went on. But as he sat
quietly in a corner, busily engaged in untying the knots in a piece of
herring net he had brought home from his last trip to the shore, nobody
objected to this.

At half past eleven the lettuce salad was made, the golden circles of
the pies were heaped with whipped cream, and everything was sizzling and
bubbling that ought to sizzle and bubble.

"We'd better go and dress now," said Anne, "for they may be here by
twelve. We must have dinner at sharp one, for the soup must be served as
soon as it's done."

Serious indeed were the toilet rites presently performed in the east
gable. Anne peered anxiously at her nose and rejoiced to see that its
freckles were not at all prominent, thanks either to the lemon juice
or to the unusual flush on her cheeks. When they were ready they looked
quite as sweet and trim and girlish as ever did any of "Mrs. Morgan's
heroines."

"I do hope I'll be able to say something once in a while, and not sit
like a mute," said Diana anxiously. "All Mrs. Morgan's heroines converse
so beautifully. But I'm afraid I'll be tongue-tied and stupid. And I'll
be sure to say 'I seen.' I haven't often said it since Miss Stacy taught
here; but in moments of excitement it's sure to pop out. Anne, if I
were to say 'I seen' before Mrs. Morgan I'd die of mortification. And it
would be almost as bad to have nothing to say."

"I'm nervous about a good many things," said Anne, "but I don't think
there is much fear that I won't be able to talk."

And, to do her justice, there wasn't.

Anne shrouded her muslin glories in a big apron and went down to concoct
her soup. Marilla had dressed herself and the twins, and looked more
excited than she had ever been known to look before. At half past twelve
the Allans and Miss Stacy came. Everything was going well but Anne was
beginning to feel nervous. It was surely time for Priscilla and Mrs.
Morgan to arrive. She made frequent trips to the gate and looked as
anxiously down the lane as ever her namesake in the Bluebeard story
peered from the tower casement.

"Suppose they don't come at all?