the tree
they danced in the moonlight till they were out of breath. But when
they could dance no more they stood stock still and stared without
speaking; for spread under the trees was such a feast as they had not
seen for months and months.

In the middle was a great heap of apples, red and brown and green and
gold; but besides these was a dish of roasted apples and another of
apple dumplings, and between them a bowl of brown sugar and a full
pitcher of cream. The cream had spilled, and you could see where Martin
had run his finger up the round of the pitcher to its lip, where one
drip lingered still. Near these there was a plum-cake of the sort our
grannies make. It is of these cakes we say that twenty men could not
put their arms round them. There were nuts in it too, and spices. And
there was a big basin of curds and whey, and a bigger one of fruit
salad, and another of custard; and plates of jam tarts and lemon
cheesecakes and cheesestraws and macaroons; and gingerbread in cakes
and also in figures of girls and boys with caraway comfits for eyes,
and a unicorn and a lion with gilded horn and crown; and pots of honey
and quince jelly and treacle; and mushrooms and pickled walnuts and
green salads. Even Mr. Ringdaly did not provide a bigger feast when he
married Mrs. Ringdaly. For there were also all the best sorts of sweets
in the world: sugar-candy on a string, and twisted barley-sticks, and
bulls'-eyes, and peardrops, and licorice shoe-strings, and Turkish
Delight, and pink and white sugar mice; besides these there was
sherbet, not to drink of course, but to dip your finger in. There were
a good many other things, but these were what the milkmaids took in at
a glance.

"OH!" cried six voices at once. "Where did they come from?"

"Through the gap," said Martin.

"But who brought them?"

"Don't ask me," said Martin.

At first the girls were rather shy--you can't help that at parties. But
as they ate (and you know what each ate first) they got more and more
at their ease, and by the time they were licking their sticky fingers
were in the mood for any game. So they played all the best games there
are, such as "Cobbler! Cobbler!" (Joscelyn's shoe), and Hunt the
Thimble (Jane's thimble), and Mulberry Bush, and Oranges and Lemons,
and Nuts in May. And in Nuts in May Martin insisted on being a side all
by himself, and one after another he fetched each girl away from her
side to his. And Joan came like a bird, and