“That certainly beats what we have out here most days!” he said.  “We have plenty—­but it’s just bread and cold meat and water, as a rule, and no dessert.  It’s better than they get at most farms, though, at that.”

When the meal was finished the girls quickly made neat parcels of the dishes that were to be taken back, and all the litter that remained under the tree was gathered up into a neat heap and burned.

“My, but you’re neat!” exclaimed Walter, as he watched them.

“It’s one of our Camp Fire rules,” explained Margery.  “We’re used to camping out and eating in the open air, you know, and it isn’t fair to leave a place so that the next people who camp out there have to do a lot of work to clean up after you before they can begin having a good time themselves.  We wouldn’t like it if we had to do it after others, so we try always to leave things just as we’d like to find them ourselves.  And it wouldn’t be good for the Camp Fire Girls if people thought we were careless and untidy.”

Then they got back to work again, and the long summer afternoon passed happily, with all four of the girls doing their share of the work.  The sun was still high when they had finished their work, and Walter gave the word to stop happily, since he wanted time to put on his best clothes for the trip to Deer Crossing, where the ice-cream festival was to be held.  Such festivities were rare enough in the country to be made mightily welcome when they came, especially when the date chosen was a Saturday, since on Sunday those who worked in the fields every other day of the week could take things easily and lie abed late.

“Well, I’ll see all you girls again to-night,” he said.  “I’ll be along after supper, Dolly—­don’t forget.  We’re goin’ to ride over together in the first wagon.”

“All right,” said Dolly, smiling at him, and winking shamelessly at Bessie.  “Don’t forget to put on that new blue necktie and to wear those pink socks, Walter.”

“I sure won’t,” he said, not having seen her wink, and, as he turned away, Dolly looked at Bessie with a gesture of comic despair.

“I think it’s very mean to laugh at Walter’s clothes, Dolly,” said Bessie.  “They’re not a bit sillier than some of the things the boys in the city wear, are they, Margery?”

“I should say not—­not half as foolish.  I’ve seen some of your pet boys wearing the sort of clothes one would expect men at the racetrack to wear, and nobody else, Dolly.  You want to get over thinking you’re so much better than everyone else—­if you don’t, it’s going to make; you unhappy.”

Once they were at the ice-cream festival, where all the girls and young fellows from miles around seemed to have gathered, Dolly seemed prepared to have a very good time, however.  She entered into the spirit of the occasion, and, though she, like Bessie and most of the Camp Fire Girls, would not take part in the kissing games that were popular, she wasn’t a bit stiff or superior.